Greener On The Other Side
by catchme21
Summary: Seq to Prison Blues...though you don't have to read it...A demon shows Sam what life would have been like if he wasn't around, and in trying to save him Dean does the unthinkable. Sam will never be the same...uploaded in a day before I took off...
1. Forgive Me Father

Ok, so finally I'm posting my sequal to "Got Them Old Prison Blues". You don't really have to read that one to understand this one, but I make some references that would probably make more sense if you read that one and _coughreviewedcough_ lol. I wrote this before WIAWSNB I swear haha.

Usual disclaimer applies: I don't own anything Supernatural or Winchester related, I just like to borrow them every once in a while...heh heh heh...

Enjoy!

* * *

**_Devote not your trust too much to the mockery of dreams,  
Nor let yourself be terrified by everything;  
Do not become inflated by joyful visions,  
For frequently a demon prepares these snares for you. - St. Gregory_**

_Now Leaving Deer Lodge, MT_

The rain made a soft pattering sound as it hit the roof of the '67 Impala. The day was bleak; the town hadn't seen much sun in the past week. Three figures stood out in the rain hardly noticing the drops as it dampened their coats.

"You guys will come to visit, won't you?" Jessica asked, she was trying hard not to cry.

"We'll try," Sam reassured her. "But until then, you have our numbers, right?"

Nodding, she finally released her precarious hold on the tears. It wouldn't matter anyway, the water that drizzled from the sky acted as camouflage as it mixed with her tears.

"You guys saved everyone here, we owe you. You'll always have a home here, you'll always be welcome," she said as she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"You take care of yourself," she then said to Dean as she wrapped him in a hug.

Dean looked at Sam for a moment, who just shrugged. Jessica didn't seem to want to let go. Sighing, he returned the hug.

Sniffling, she stepped back onto the sidewalk.

"Bye Jessica," Sam said with a small smile as he followed his brother and climbed into the car. She waved and continued to watch until the sleek black car glided around the corner and out of sight.

-SN-

_What Dreams May Come_

_Somewhere outside Creede, Colorado_

Dean cast a worried look at his sleeping passenger. This was the most peaceful he'd slept in a week, and he was almost worried his brother was dead he was so quiet. Whatever those damn hillbillies had done to his brother seemed to have left a bit of a scar.

Seeing a billboard for a small gas station ahead, he didn't hesitate to pull in. Sam had been out for the past 4 hours, and Dean for once didn't have the heart to wake him so he could drive. He needed a break even though the gas tank was half full.

Pulling up to an empty slot, he slowly climbed out and stretched. He was stiff and sore all of the time now, but it seemed to be getting better as time went. They had faced two psychotic brothers almost a week ago, and both hunters had taken a bit of a beating. Sam had taken the brunt of it, including being stabbed. He shook his head as he remembered seeing his brother go down, a small pool of blood underneath him. Thankfully the piece of wood hadn't gone in that far, and had only needed a short visit to the emergency room and a few stitches.

Suddenly angry all over again, he rammed the pump into the tank and headed towards the station. Walking through the rows and rows of junk food and carbonated beverages, he picked up what he thought Sam might want and grabbed an arm load for himself. Yeah, Sam could use a Twinkie or two. Twinkies always made everyone feel better.

Dumping the contents on the counter, he smiled at the girl behind the counter. Grinning back, she revealed a row of cracked and yellow teeth, two of which were missing.

To hide his shudder, he looked down at the counter trying to look interested at the assortment of lottery tickets spread out underneath a thin plastic cover. A newspaper screamed out at him, catching his attention.

_Four Teens Killed In Group Suicide_

He wasn't sure why, but something tugged at him. Shrugging, he tossed the paper in with his pile of goodies. If nothing came of that article, maybe they could find something else.

Smiling once more at the cashier, he gathered everything up and headed back out to the car.

"Where are we?" Sam muttered as Dean climbed back in behind the wheel.

"Just outside of Creede Colorado," he replied as he sorted the newly purchase nourishment.

"How long was I out?" the younger said, a little more alert, but he was still rubbing his eyes and stretching.

"Four hours. How'd you sleep?" Sam noticed Dean had yet to make a smart comment.

"Fine. You don't have to worry about me," he muttered.

"I'm not worried. Your sleeping habits are starting to interfere with mine, and that's just something I can't have."

"Whatever man," Sam said with a small grin.

"Oh yeah, check this out," Dean said, tossing a newspaper into his lap.

"Group suicide? That doesn't really sound like something for us."

"I don't know how to explain it, it just felt wrong. What can you get out of the article?"

"Nothing much, just that the group were friends, had been their whole lives," Sam paused, reading the rest of the article. "Two of them were actually cousins. They're claiming depression, but no one knows for sure why they all did it. One kid claims they couldn't live without each other, so when one committed suicide, they all did."

"And this all happened in Creede?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Let's go talk to the families."

"Dean, this just happened two days ago. The families are going to be grieving, and the police have already ruled foul play out so no cops should be poking around. They're not going to want to talk to us. Besides, why even go do this? A bunch of kids killed themselves, nothing supernatural about it."

"I'm telling you Sam, I have a feeling about this."

"Alright, who's psychic now?" Sam teased.

"Whatever bitch. We still have them priest outfits?"

"Dean, no."

"Come on Sammy, these people are going to need guidance in their time of grieving…"

"Dean…no."

-SN-

_Forgive Me Father..._

An hour later they were standing in front of a small two story house. The paint was chipped and peeling, flaking off into the yard which was nothing more than patches of yellow-white grass and dirt.

_**Flash  
**Sam was back in that room, tied to that chair. The wallpaper was chipped and peeling, yellowed with age._  
_**Flash**_

"Sam? Dude, game face," Dean whispered as he knocked on the old wooden door. Sam shook his head, trying to clear the memory. The door opened and he instantly smiled.

The woman who answered looked tired, beaten. Her hair was tied back, and it looked a little grayer than it probably should have. According to the newspapers, this was Jill Hayden, mother to one of the victims. She was only in her early fourties, but she looked like she'd aged about twenty years in the past two days. Her eyes were empty and gray, and her shoulders seemed to hold all the weight in the world.

"Can I help you?" she said quietly, so quietly the boys almost missed it. Sam spoke first.

"I'm Father Bo, and this is Father Luke. We're priests with the-" Sam began.

"Thank you for coming," she nodded, stepping aside to let them in.

Shrugging, Dean stepped into the dark hallway, Sam close behind.

"We're so sorry for your loss," Sam said gently, placing his hand on her shoulder. His touch was light; almost as if he was afraid she'd crumble on contact.

"I…yes, thank you," she said, almost trance-like. "Please, have a seat."

As soon as they were seated, Jill began to offer them coffee. Dean almost accepted until he saw the look on Sam's face.

"No, thank you," Sam said, gesturing that she should sit herself.

"So, you boys came to help an old lady in her time of grief, huh?" she said, sniffling. There was no sarcasm in her voice, no anger; it was almost void of emotion.

"Jill, what exactly do you think happened?" Dean asked, getting right to the point.

"My baby…my baby was depressed. We didn't recognize the symptoms until it was too late," she sniffled again. "She…she killed herself."

"What kind of symptoms?" Sam asked softly.

"Well, now that I look back on it, none. At least, not until last week."

The boys stayed silent, wanting to let her go her own pace.

Pulling in a deep breath, she continued. "Last week she started talking about how everyone would be better off if she were dead. She started…she started having these dreams. She never told me what she dreamt about, but I could hear her cry out at night. Oh my God, my baby!" the last words came out in heart-wrenching sobs. She put her face in her hands.

"Jill?" a man's voice floated from the other room. A man followed the voice, a concerned look on his face. The man looked about as beat down as the woman, and from the papers they recognized him as Derrick, Jill's husband.

"This is Father Bo and Father Luke," Jill said, nodding at the boys. "This is my husband Derrick."

"Jill, honey, are you alright?" Derrick said after a quick nod to the priests.

"Yes, I'll be fine. I think I just need to lie down. Excuse me Fathers," she said and quietly left the room.

"I'm sorry about that, my wife's just having a hard time with this," Derrick said, sitting in his wife's abandoned seat.

"That's alright," Sam said, giving the man his "look-at-me-I-feel-your-pain-because-I'm-Sammy" look. Dean didn't know how he did it. His brother could be talking to the Devil himself, and after one of those looks the demon would be putty. "We've come too soon."

"No, no, I think you came at just the right time. Lord knows we could all use a little spiritual help."

"How are you holding up Mr. Hayden?" Dean asked.

"Um…As well as can be expected I guess. It was just so sudden, ya know? Last week we were filling out forms for Justine to go to summer camp, and now we're trying to decide what color coffin to put her in." Tears began to gather in the father's tired eyes, threatening to spill. "She liked Cherry, maybe we'll put her in a nice Cherry box."

"Mr. Hayden, your wife said Justine had no symptoms of depression up until last week. What happened last week?" Dean asked, still trying to gently pry information out of him.

"Well, for about the past month she's been having these nightmares. I sat one night and listened to her, she kept saying everyone looked so happy without her, that we would all be better of if she was dead. I tried to talk to her about it, but she said she didn't remember having those dreams. I guess the dreams finally won," he said, finally breaking down.

Sam stood up slowly, motioning for Dean that it was time to go. "Mr. Hayden, once again we are so sorry for your loss. If you ever need anyone to talk to, here's our number. Please don't hesitate to call."

"Thank you for coming."

-SN-

"Maybe she really was depressed," Sam said, watching Dean thoroughly clean the shotgun.

"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe something happened to her in those dreams," he replied. "Oh, and by the way, Bo and Luke?! That is the last time you get to pick names, Captain Fricken Obvious"

"I still think you're grasping at thin air here man," Sam said, ignoring his brother's last comment. "I didn't get anything from them, nothing more than the grieving parents of a suicidal girl."

"Sam, will you just trust me on this?" Dean said. "I want to go talk to other family members of the kids, and if it turns out there is nothing here, beer's on me for the next month...or it'll be on..." he said, pulling out his newest credit card. "Martin Brawflawcksy."

Sam's eyes widened in shock, and at the same time he was smiling at the ridiculousness of the name. Dean really thought he had something.

"When have I not trusted you? Alright, we'll go talk to the McCready's tomorrow. Their son was Justine's boyfriend." He really hoped after this Dean owed him some beers, but his own uneasy feeling was beginning to grow.

* * *

I hope to have the rest uploaded before I go. 


	2. Where The Green Grass Grows

Ok, so this update is a bit longer. I'm leaving soon and tonight finally decided I really needed to get this up here, while life was quiet for a bit. Crap, I might even just try to get the whole story up here tonight.

So enjoy, and hopefully I don't overwhelm you all lol. And for those of you that don't like cryingemohelplesssavemeDean!Sam...no worries. I was reading back through this, going "crap I've turned Sam super emo"...but my every intention was to have Sam's feelings magnified supernaturally. You guys will find out why soon enough...

* * *

_**Where The Green Grass Grows...**_

_It was cold out, and snow had begun to fall. The two hunters ran, their breaths creating little clouds that trailed them in the dark forest. _

A wolverine had been luring campers and hikers to it's cave, then killing them. Same old story with anything supernatural...

That was about to end. Tonight.

They had been searching for the damn thing for nearly a week now, and they had finally found it.

The cave loomed before them, forbidding. A howl pierced the silent night, and a scream closely followed.

His brother turned to him, shaking his head, making no move to go inside.

"Dean? What are you doing, we have to go in there!" Sam said in a panic.

"You know what Sam? It was your stupid idea to come here in the first place. If it wasn't for you, I'd be in my nice warm bed tonight."

"Dean? What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"You just had to come to this stupid town. I wanted to take a little vacation, but no-o, you couldn't let me."

"Dean…"

"Whatever man, let's just go," Dean sighed and ran into the cave.

"Dean, wait!"

"Are you going to stand there and say my name all night or are you-" Dean's voice was suddenly cut off. His voice rang out in an ear shattering scream.

"Dean!" Sam screamed, rushing into the cave. The faster he tried to run, the farther away the cave seemed.

See how you hurt him? It's your fault he's dead, _a voice taunted, echoing and circuling Sam until he felt he couldn't breathe_. He'd be better off without you.

"Damnit Sam, wake up already!" Dean yelled, shaking his shoulders.

"Dean?" he blinked up at his older brother, trying to shake the dream. He was no longer at the entrance to the cave, but in the newest cruddy motel room they had checked into the previous night.

"Yeah, the one and only," he said, throwing himself back onto his own bed. "So what did you dream about this time?"

"Dean…" was all he could say. The dream had messed him up, disoriented him. He was trying to sort out what was real and wasn't.

Sighing, Dean shrugged. "Whatever man. Are you going to lay there and say my name all day or go get us some breakfast?"

Sam jumped at the statement. "Why would you say something like that?"

Dean took on his own look of shock. "Because…I'm hungry?"

Sam smiled. "Sorry, yeah. I'll head across the street; I think I saw a Burger King."

-SN-

Sam laughed as he remembered the dream. Of course it wasn't even close to being real. This time he believed he had an actual normal run-of-the-mill dream. _This job...it gets to you man. _Dean would never, in a million years, complain about going on a hunt. _You can't bring it home like that. _And if they were tracking something in the snow, it more than likely would be Dean's idea, as eager as he usually was. _So you're telling me you've never..._

_No._

He waited for the crosswalk to turn green before crossing the street. He felt happy for once, and he blamed it on his normal dream. The dream that even made him laugh. Focused solely on his good mood and his empty stomach, he failed to notice the pair of eyes that studied his every step.

She watched him jog across the street. Last night had not gone according to plan. While enjoying the torment of the parents of her latest victims, she had become intrigued with two priests that had come to offer their condolences. The taller one, Father Bo, had been radiating with psychic energy. She had never felt such power. Though she was still tired from taking out five teens at once, she was obsessed now.

She had invaded his dreams last night, intent on making him her newest victim. But her excitement had made her careless, clumsy. She blamed it on him being so damn cute.

She had misjudged. She was now positive she was going up against a hunter. And not just any hunter, she believed he was one of the famed Winchesters. She was in trouble.

She was going to have to pull out all the stops for this one.

The Winchesters were going down before they could take her down.

-SN-

The other sausage muffin was gone before Sam could even get his out of the wrapper.

"Hungry Dean?" Sam said, his tone light. He just couldn't believe the mood he was in, he couldn't even get the smile to leave his face.

"Yeah," he replied around a mouth full. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You bounced out of bed this morning, and now you're grinning like an idiot."

"I'unno, I'm just in a good mood I guess," Sam said as he shrugged.

"Alright Mary Poppins, you gonna finish your food so we can get started?"

The next house they visited was immaculate. The lawn was perfectly manicured despite the dying grass and carefully placed tan bricks made a walkway to the front door. A fresh coat of paint brightened the exterior and nothing looked out of place. A sign above the door welcomed visitors to the happy home with little blue birds and an assortment of flowers.

"Oh God kill me now," Dean said as he gave the place a once over.

"Be careful Dean, He just might for this," Sam chuckled as he pulled at the snug collar surrounding his neck.

Shooting his brother a dirty look, Dean rang the doorbell. "I get to pick the names this time," he hissed. He still couldn't believe Sam had the nerve to bring up the Dukes.

"Don't you think we should keep the same names? People are going to be talking about the two priests who can't seem to keep the same name," Sam said, grinning again. Dean cussed and glared at Sam.

The door opened and the sight that greeted the boys almost made them step back. Even dressed in a business suit, they could tell the guy was huge. He towered over the young hunters by at least a couple inches, and was topped off with a cleanly shaven head.

"Yes?" his voice was low, almost a growl.

_**Flash  
**Sam was back behind the diner, getting the crap kicked out of him. He remembered fighting back…but suddenly he couldn't fight back anymore. The punches kept coming…_  
_**Flash**_

"Evan," Sam whispered, suddenly light headed and slightly confused.

Dean was quietly signing the "Mr. Clean" jingle when he heard Sam. Shooting a sideways look at his brother, and noticed he was suddenly pale. And had he said _Evan_? Crap.

Sam slowly shook his head, trying to clear the memory.

"Can I help you?" the man stated again, looking at the priests in confusion.

"Yes sir, we were just stopping by to offer our condolences," Dean answered, tearing his gaze away from his brother to the Scott Bigelow in front of him. "I'm Father…Luke, this is Father Bo."

"Welcome Fathers, please, come in. I'm Jason McCready." He stepped aside and allowed the men in.

"Mr. McCready, we're so sorry for your loss," Sam said. For now he had to put aside whatever the hell it was that was affecting him now, and focus on the job.

"Thank you, and please call me Jason. And thank you for coming; it's so nice for the church to send someone out. I never was a religious man until lately…" Jason lowered his head. "Oh, I'm being rude. Please, have a seat."

"So Jason, how are you holding up?" Sam asked gently.

"Well, fine I guess. Trying to remain strong you know, for my wife and daughter."

Dean nodded in understanding. "You said you weren't religious until lately."

"Yeah, when my son starting getting sick, my wife insisted that we start praying. No offense, but I don't think it worked," the father laughed, it was a dry, humorless laugh.

"Getting sick?" Sam pried.

"Yeah, about a month ago he started having these nightmares I guess. He wasn't sleeping real well, and it sort of affected his health. The doctors said it was all in his head, that they couldn't do anything for him but refer him to a psychologist. My wife didn't want to take Marty to no quack, so we tried the whole spiritual religious thing."

"Did he ever tell you what the nightmares were?"

"No, he refused to talk about them. He said they just confirmed what he thought all along. He told me the night before he died that everyone would just be better off if he was dead."

Dean's eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Sam. Sam had his same expression, though his jaw was hanging slightly open.

"I just don't understand it? I mean, why would they do something like this? Why would they kill themselves? I just don't get it," Jason moaned, tears now pouring from his eyes. "The boy had a full ride to CU even though he was only a sophomore." Jason smiled sadly, suddenly lost in thought. "He could throw a football I tell you what. Not a bad wrestler either."

"Once again we're sorry for your loss. If there's anything at all we can do, please call us," Sam said, writing his cell phone number on a small piece of paper and handing it to the grieving father.

"I will. My wife will be glad to know you stopped by. She's upstairs resting, or I'm sure she would have been here."

"It's quite alright. Take care of your family," Sam said, suddenly feeling an overwhelming grief of his own. The room suddenly seemed a whole lot smaller, and a huge weight settled over him, crushing his chest. Smiling at the man one more time, he quickly left.

-SN-

_**As She Weaves Her Web Of Lies...**_

"What the hell got into you back there?" Dean demanded as soon as they were in the car.

"I don't know Dean, something's just…off. This whole job, something's wrong," Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead. He had a building headache and the weight on his chest was increasing.

"What do you mean? Like the fact that the kids' dreams are depressing them so they're killing themselves?" A small sliver of panic was beginning to settle in the pit of Dean's stomach. This morning, Sam had been acting strange. He had been in a good mood, so Dean let it slide, content with the change. As soon as they reached the house, Sam had slipped back into brooding-mode, then had left the house looking like someone had killed his dog. Not to mention the fact that he had gone into this job skeptical, but now he had Dean's uneasy about the job.

"I don't know how to explain it," Sam sighed. He needed time to sort through his emotions. Something had affected him in that house, and the deep-seated feeling of depression was growing, making him nauseous. He also couldn't seem to shake the last job. He had been scared then too, Dean had inherited his visions after a freak electrical shock, and it had almost killed him.

As soon as they reached the hotel, Sam rushed up to the room and into the bathroom.

"Don't take forever in there Sammy, we still have work to do," Dean's muffled voice came from the other side of the door. "And use the fan."

"Be right out," he returned, rolling his eyes.

Dean stared in concern at the bathroom door. Sam was going freaky again, and he worried for both their sanities. He didn't know how much more worrying he could do.

Maybe it had been too soon to jump on another job. Even though Sam hadn't said it himself, Dean knew the last job was still clouding his mind, affecting his nights. _You can't bring it home like that..._

He just hoped his little brother was going to be alright. He knew the kind of mind games Sam could inflict on himself, causing more damage than any demon could ever dream of doing. Sam was feeling guilty for Dean getting his visions, which had been completely out of his control.

Shaking his head, he threw himself into one of the chairs and picked up the laptop. He didn't know where exactly he was going to start, but he'd rather start somewhere than standing there all day staring at that damn closed door.

Sam carefully lowered himself onto the closed lid of the toilet. The room was uncomfortably hot, and he stripped off the collar and shirt of the priest's costume till he was left in the thin white tee shirt underneath. Leaning up against the wall, he felt its coolness against his head, seeping into his mind, easing his headache.

It soothed him. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

_Sam came out of the bathroom, Dean was no where around. Wondering if his brother had gone off in search of food, he sat down in front of his laptop. _

A chill settled in the room, causing Sam to shiver. He looked up and watched as the door opened. Dean stood in the doorway, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Snow quietly drifted around him, and blew into the room.

"Dean, where've you been?" Sam asked, confused. Something wasn't right.

"Sam, I can't do this anymore," Dean said with a frown, sounding defeated.

"Do what? Don't tell me you're giving up the job yet," Sam smiled. His smile was not returned.

"Sam, I can't constantly worry about you anymore. I can't take the thought of something happening to you. It's…it's affecting my hunt. I'm going on by myself, it's the only way I can be free of you."

"Dean, what do you mean?" Sam asked, panicked. Dean couldn't seriously leave him alone, could he?

"It was a mistake coming to Stanford to get you. I can't take the guilt and worry anymore Sam, it's killing me."

"Dean, you don't have to be so worried about me, I'm fine," Sam argued. He couldn't lose his brother.

"I'm going on by myself. Have a nice life Sammy," Dean said, shutting the door.

"DEAN!!" Sam screamed as he rushed towards the door. He threw himself at it, reaching for the knob. It wouldn't turn, he couldn't get it open.

See how much you hurt him? _a voice floated towards him._ See how much he can't stand the thought of you? You try your best, but in the end, he'd be better off with out you.

_Sam slouched against the door and started to cry._

"DEAN!!" Sam yelled as he felt himself falling forward off the toilet. His head connected painfully with the porcelain tub and he slid to the floor.

"Sam!" Dean yelled through the door. A loud pounding reverberated through the small room, causing Sam to groan and clutch at his head. Stars were dancing and twisting in his line of vision, intensifying the growing nauseousness.

Dean's boot met with the locked door, causing it to fly open. The site he was met with shocked him. Sam was on the floor in a ball, his hair was wet, matting it to his head and his fingers as he clutched it. He was shaking so hard Dean could have swore he heard his teeth chattering.

"Sam? Oh God, Sam, are you ok?" Dean demanded, kneeling next to his brother. His eyes scanned the bathroom, trying desperately to find whatever had attacked his brother.

"Dean…please don't leave me…oh God…I'm so sorry," Sam moaned, tears forming in his eyes.

"Sam, what the hell are you talking about? I'm not leaving you," Dean insisted.

"I…I want to be with you…please…don't leave me," Sam was crying openly now. His eyes were wide and unfocused, causing Dean's heart to catch.

"Come on Sam; let's get you off the floor."

A few moments later Sam was seated on one of the beds so Dean could examine his wound. He had a small bump on his head, right above his temple. It didn't look serious, so Dean concentrated on his mental wound.

Sam was still shaking, still crying, and still pleading with Dean not to leave.

"Sam? Sam!" Dean yelled, grabbing his baby brother's shoulders and shaking him. He'd had enough.

Sam's head snapped up, and looked at Dean as if seeing him for the first time.

"Dean?"

"Yeah genius, it's me. What are you saying about me leaving you?"

"I thought…" Sam swallowed as his dream replayed in his mind. "I thought you said you were going to leave me because you couldn't stand to protect me anymore."

"Sam, are you crazy? Why would I say something stupid like that?" Dean demanded, a little too harsh causing Sam to recoil. Seeing the defeated look in his brother's eyes tore at his heart. "This has got to stop Sam. These mind games you like to play are going to kill you."

"I'm not playing mind games," Sam grumbled, though he wasn't so sure. Was he going crazy?

"Yeah whatever. You really think I would leave you alone? Come on dude, you know me better than that."

"Yeah, I guess. It's just that you seem to get hurt more because of me," Sam said, shuddering. The thought of Dean leaving him had shaken him. The pressure on his chest had increased and he felt like his whole world was collapsing around him.

"Sam, listen to me very carefully," Dean said quietly as he sat down next to Sam on the small dingy bed. Nonchalantly he tried to remain in contact, sitting so close so his arm was touching Sam's. "I'm not going to leave you. Not now, not ever. Do you remember what I told you after we had that little run in with Max?"

"Yeah. You said as long as you were around, nothing bad was going to happen to me. Then you tried to get me to go to Vegas with you."

Dean smiled at the memory. "That's right. You think I would seriously just go back on that?" Dean said, turning serious once more. His tone sounded almost insulted.

"Dean, you have made it your whole life's goal to protect me. Hell, Dad has pretty much made that your full time job. But at what cost to you? How can you worry about me for so long without it having some effect on you?"

"So you think that's why I do what I do? Because Dad ordered me to? Because I have nothing better to do? Ah Sammy," Dean said, shaking his head. "As soon as Dad left…I came to find you because…" Dean trailed off, not wanting to admit that he needed Sam. He wasn't used to exposing his emotions, but something about the broken man in front of him scared him. With the current case they were working on, and his brother's fragile state of mind after the last case, he was honestly scared for once that he might lose Sam. The look of defeat that he had seen in his brother's eyes when he'd found him in the bathroom had shaken him to the core.

"So you don't want to leave me?"

"No Sammy, not now, not ever."

She leaned up against the wall and watched the brothers. She hadn't counted on Sam breaking her hold on his dreams, or on Dean being able to come to his rescue. She had intended to break Sam right then and there, had wanted to whisper doubts into his mind until he couldn't take it.

Sam had panicked and pulled back, escaping from her.

She was going to have to put forth her best effort with this one.

There was a reason these boys were considered the best, and she was going to have to keep that in mind.

Fading from the room, she laughed. She had the perfect plan. She was going to break the youngest slowly, then finish him off.

The oldest would soon follow.

* * *

Another chapter coming soon lol. FanFiction by machine gun...YES!!! 


	3. Revelations and Witnesses

Ratta-tat-tat ya'll are still with me? Holy crudola...

Enjoy. :) This will probably be my last upload for tonight, I'll finish it up in the morning. I guess I better give you guys a chance to review if you're wantin' to. I also forgot to mention that I wrote this last year, when season one had ended, and placed this about halfway to towards the end of season 1. So no spoilers:)

* * *

_**Revelations and Witnesses...**_

Dean watched Sam, who in turn was staring at the laptop. It had taken him a few minutes to calm his little brother down, but now Sam was acting like nothing had happened. In fact, he almost looked angry. He looked so caught up in his research; it gave Dean a moment to observe his brother. Sam had grown in the past 10 months, since he had met up with him at Stanford. Not only in appearance, but in attitude as well.

He had stepped right back into the roll of hunter without a problem. Dean smiled; remembering a few of the hunts they'd gone on. He wouldn't have been able to do it without his geeky little brother. The plane ride, the Wendigo, Bloody Mary, when he'd gotten shocked and had to face a Reaper, he owed all those cases to his brother. Suddenly realization hit Dean so hard it almost knocked him over: Sam saved him. When his father had left, he'd felt abandoned, tossed aside. Then his brother had joined back up with him. He hated the fact that Jessica had died, but loved the fact that Sam was at his side once again.

Without him, Dean realized he was just another hothead on a mission for vengeance. Sam made him slow down and think every once in a while. Sam _saved_ him. Not just when he needed it, but all the time. Sam soothed him, made him feel like he had a purpose in the world. He honestly didn't think he'd be alive at that moment if it hadn't been for his brother.

Sam could feel the watchful gaze of his brother but paid no attention. He was suddenly pissed off. Dean had never given any intention of leaving, why did he think such things? Once again though, he'd needed rescuing. Dean had had to coddle him like some crying child until he'd made the bad dream go away. He was a grown man for crying out loud. How much more rescuing was he going to need?

Forcing himself to concentrate on his task at hand, he stared intently at the small screen of the laptop in front of him. He had been trying to find out something about dreams and depression, and all he got was a load of crap. Some of the sites even scared him. There was a page for rituals on how to kill your enemy while they slept. He didn't think he even wanted to know how you got the main ingredient, a baby pig's bladder.

Shuddering, he closed the laptop and turned to face Dean. Dean was leafing through their father's journal, making notes in a small notebook.

"Well, I can't find anything having to do with dreams causing depression. Do you think we could be dealing with some sort of angry spirit?"

Dean looked up from the journal for a moment, "No, spirits don't usually drive people to suicide through their dreams. Plus there's nothing in the group's history suggesting they're responsible for creating an angry spirit."

"Maybe they made some sort of enemy, someone crazy enough to get a pig's bladder."

"Heh?" Dean asked, his face contorting in confusion.

"Nothing. Should we go talk to the other two families?"

"No, I think it'd be a waste of time. Their stories would probably be the same as the other two. Plus I don't think putting on those costumes was such a good idea, the collar itches."

Sam's phone rang, interrupting the boys.

"Hello?"

"Father Bo?" a quiet voice asked.

"Yes?" Sam shot Dean a confused look.

"It's Mrs. Hayden. I need your help."

Within 20 minutes they were seated on the Hayden's couch. They had rushed over, not even bothering to change into their...uh...costumes.

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Hayden said, sitting across from them. "I didn't mean to call you in your…" she paused, gesturing to their clothes, "…off time."

"Don't even worry about it," Sam replied, waving her off. "What do you need our help with?"

"Well, it's Breanne."

"Who's Breanne?"

"She's the fifth one."

Dean wondered if this conversation was actually going anywhere. "Fifth what?"

"Fifth friend. See, in that group, there were five friends. Breanne is the only one that survived her attempt." Sam shot a grateful look at Dean.

"Where is Breanne?"

"Well, she was supposed to go home today, but her parents want her admitted to the psych ward. I…I was wondering if you would go see her."

Sam nodded at Dean. This girl could help them. She could probably fill in a few blank spots.

"We'll go as soon as we can. May God be with you," Dean said rising. Tears welled in the women's eyes when the last words were uttered.

Sam wanted to smack Dean.

As they were walking down the broken sidewalk back towards the car, Sam pushed Dean's shoulder. Catching himself before he could be embarrassed, he turned around and was about to deck Sam when he noticed Jill stepping out onto the porch. Smiling, he waved instead.

"What'd you do that for?" he demanded as soon as they were in the haven of the car.

"It just seems like you want to make a mockery out of us being priests," Sam sighed. "If we weren't going to hell before, we probably are now."

"Yeah, whatever _Bo_," Dean smirked as he pulled out of their parking spot.

-SN-

The hospital was close…as was to be expected in a town of roughly 300 people. Within no time the boys were stepping through doors and into the psych ward, costumes back in place. The heavy acidic smell of antiseptics hit them, making them cringe. Bright fluorescent lights hummed above them and their shoes squeaked on the hard polished tiles.

A nurse watched them approach, and Dean's thoughts instantly turned south. She…was…hot. Sam glanced at his brother, and knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Remember your vows, _Father_," Sam said through his teeth. He heard Dean sigh and he almost laughed. Serves him right.

"Can I help you?" she said, her voice coming out low and husky.

Dean inwardly groaned. Of all the times for him to suggest a disguise. "Yes, we're looking for a Breanne Logan."

"Oh I'm so glad!" the nurse said, suddenly excited. "That poor girl hasn't seen many visitors. Please follow me."

"No visitors? Not even her parents?" Sam questioned.

"No, they've been here once or twice. They almost seem afraid to come."

"Right through there," the nurse said, pointing to the double doors ahead of them. "She's in the first room to the right."

"She tried to commit suicide?" Sam asked before she could turn to leave.

"Yeah, you should probably prepare yourselves. She tried to slit her own throat, so there's a tube to help her breathe. She's also been restrained because of numerous attempts to remove the tube. Talking is a little difficult, but she's able to whisper. Just please don't make her say too much."

"Right…Thanks," Dean said, watching with disappointment as she made her way back to her station. The horror of the situation was lost on him as long as he had a visual distraction. Maybe after all this was over, he could swear off his oath, claim she had that effect on him. _It's perfect_, he thought, a twinkle lighting up in his eyes.

"Dean, game face," Sam grinned at him. That girl had definitely just walked off with his heart, or a lower organ at least.

They pushed through the double doors, and a chill hit them almost immediately.

"Keep your eyes open Sammy," Dean said, glancing nervously down the hallway.

"Maybe the heater's busted," he replied, heading towards Breanne's room. He kept his eyes peeled anyway.

"You honestly believe that Sammy? How many times in our lives are the 'heater's busted'?"

The boys grew silent as soon as they opened the door. The site in front of them was just too cruel to be real. The girl lying in the bed looked too miserable to be alive. Her dirty blonde hair was matted, clinging to her head. Her thick framed glasses sat crooked on her long thin face, and dark circles were visible underneath her eyes. She looked like she hadn't eaten much in the past year, her collar bones were sticking out from the top of her hospital gown. Her long thin arms were lying limp on either side of her; thick leather cuffs with wool lining were strapped around her wrists. A large white bandage was wrapped around her throat with a small clear tube coming from it.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the priests, and she looked almost afraid.

"Hey…hey…shhhhhh…" Sam whispered as he crept up to the side of her bed. Dean watched in amazement as the girl instantly calmed and seemed to relax under the reassuring smile of his brother.

"Hey Breanne, how are you feeling?" Sam whispered again, as if he was afraid his voice would scare the girl again.

"Fine," she wheezed back. "Sore."

"We don't want to take too much time, we just wanted to check in on you," Sam smiled. Dean decided to just stand back and let his brother handle this. He caught Sam's eye and motioned that he was going to go back out into the hallway. Sam nodded.

The girl grabbed his wrist suddenly, trying to pull him closer.

"Don't….leave….me…." she rasped, looking panicked again.

"Hey, hey, shhhh, it's ok, I'm not leaving," Sam said, grabbing her hand back. She didn't seem to want to let go. To put her at ease he grabbed the closest chair and settled into it, remaining in contact with her.

"She'll….kill….me…." Tears began to fall, making small wet tracks in her already pale face.

Sam leaned in, afraid that he hadn't heard her. "Who will kill you?"

"The…girl….I….failed….so…she…said…she…would….finish…" the girl was sobbing now, her throat making a gurgling noise as she fought the panic welling within her.

"Breanne! Calm down, ok? No one is going to kill you," Sam desperately wanted more answers out of the girl, but not if it cost her her life. He wasn't so sure she should be speaking anyway.

"The…girl…in…my…dreams…" Breanne gasped, closing her eyes against the pain.

"Breanne, please stop," Sam pleaded. Her eyes suddenly widened and her jaw fell open as she looked at Sam.

"She…wants….you….next…." the girl whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head. The beeping of her heart monitor began to steadily increase until it became erratic.

Sam abruptly released her hand, stepping backwards. He felt a coldness settle over him, but it burned. The way the girl had grasped his hand that much tighter, the way she had looked at him, the way the words had come tumbling from her mouth…it scared the hell out of him.

The cold in him was now turning into an ache, the heaviness was settling over his chest once more. The room grew fuzzy and began to tilt, causing Sam to lose his balance. He felt his head connect with the floor, and found he didn't have the strength to pull himself back up. Somewhere far off in the distance he heard laughing, a female's voice to be sure. Even though he was flat on his back, he continued to tilt, until he fell over once more into darkness.

_"Maybe the heater's busted," he said to Dean as they silently moved through the abandoned cabin. _

"You honestly believe that Sammy? How many times in our lives are the 'heater's busted'?"

Sam didn't have a chance to reply as Dean was suddenly violently yanked away from him. He heard a sickening crunch as Dean hit the wall.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, running to his fallen brother's side while trying to keep an eye open for the source of the attack. Dean's head was at an odd angle, and his unseeing eyes were fixed on the ceiling, glazed over. With shaky fingers, he reached for a pulse. When he couldn't find one, he jerked his hand back as though he had been burned.

Standing up slowly, he began to spin around the room, his eyes searching every shadow for the beast that had killed his brother. Rage and grief clouded his mind, reddening his vision until he could hardly breathe.

Suddenly he heard a sickening pop below him. He let out a strangled cry as he found himself staring into the eyes of his dead brother. His brother's head had _**moved**__. _

Dean pulled himself to his feet, his neck still at that odd angle, his eyes still glazed. Sam fell back and began to shuffle himself across the floor. Horror dawned on him as he realized he wasn't staring at his brother anymore.

Dean began to lumber towards him, having to walk almost sideways so he could keep his unfocused gaze on Sam. For the first time in his life, Sam began to scream in terror.

Dean's lips opened and closed, no sound coming from them. Blood dribbled from his pasty blue lips and ran down his chin.

"Sam…you…you were supposed to have my back. You let your guard down. I'm dead because of you!" the corpse screamed at him, the voice was raspy and unnatural. "I would have been better off with out you!"

His mind blank with fear, he turned and ran out of the cabin. Launching himself into the snow he was sick repeatedly until he warily sank into the coldness.

Laughter floated towards him, coming at him from all sides, echoing in his now empty heart.

See? You were responsible for his death. He is now damned to spend eternity in hell with me, because of you!! _a voice taunted._

_A scream tore from his throat, and he knew nothing._

_

* * *

_Dun dun dun! Super Emo Sammy! Lol. Ok guys, the rest should be up tomorrow. See you then and I hope you enjoy. 


	4. Redflag the Demon

Ok, so here comes the rest of the story. Once again I hope I'm not overwhelming you all.**_

* * *

_**

**_Sam_ _Shall Be Hers..._**

Dean laughed at the nurse as she finished her joke about the two priests and the Rabbi. He really didn't get it since he wasn't religious, but he put his best effort forward to act like he understood it. So far it was working.

"Wow," the bombshell giggled. "Most priests wouldn't have laughed at that. You are definitely like no man of the cloth that I've ever met."

"Yeah, well-" Dean was replying when suddenly the monitor behind the counter began to go off. It was Breanne's.

"Damn," the nurse yelled as she hit the alarm and began to run towards the psych ward. Casting the priest an embarrassed expression, she hurriedly muttered an apology for using such language.

Dean didn't even hear her. _Sammy_…was all he could think of as he followed her.

"What the-" came the startled cry from the room. The sight that greeted him froze him in his tracks. Breanne lay on the bed, her face even more pale than before, her body disturbingly still.

The sight that made the hunter freeze was that of his brother, shaking and moaning on the floor. He ran to Sam's side and immediately dropped so he could grab a hold of him.

"Sam? Sam! What the hell?" Dean yelled, suddenly afraid. Something had gotten to him in this room, something he hadn't been there to stop.

He barely heard the nurse as she screamed for a second team to attend to Sam.

He barely heard the doctors and nurses as they tried to pull him away from his semiconscious brother.

All he could hear were the words being continually repeated by Sam: "He's better off without me."

-SN-

Dean sat at the edge of his brother's bed, anxiously awaiting a sign, any sign. A sign that Sam was going to be waking up soon. A sign that Sam was ok. He would have given anything to see something.

They had stabilized Sam and moved him to another floor. The doctor couldn't explain it, other than a small bump on his head from where it had hit the floor, there was nothing physically wrong with him. Dean knew there was a whole hell of a lot wrong with his mental state though.

Sam moaned in his sleep, shook his head, and began to murmur. Dean stood up, leaning in until he was inches from his brother's face so he could hear the words. A chill crept over him as he caught them.

"He's better off without me."

Sam had been out for four hours now. After his brief period of restlessness, he had calmed back down into an almost peaceful sleep. But Dean knew better, he had come to a conclusion while pacing the incredibly small room. He knew Sam was lost somewhere inside his own mind, and that terrified the older brother. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost Sam. But he knew he wasn't willing to find out.

Grabbing his dad's journal, he sat down again and began to read.

_Sam sat on the dingy motel bed and waited for his brother to get out of the shower. They were finally going to catch the evil son of a bitch that had been killing all of the children. They just needed to wait for nightfall and they could finish off the hunt. With any luck they'd at least in the next town over by noon tomorrow. _

"Sam, remind me I need to buy more shampoo tomorrow," Dean said, coming out of the bathroom.

"Sure," Sam said numbly. He had been flipping through the channels for the past twenty minutes, not finding anything interesting on. His full attention was suddenly adverted as Dean yelped in pain.

"Dean?" Sam said, rushing off the bed. Dean was crouching on the ground, clutching his head in pain.

"Dean? What's happening?!" Sam said, alarm growing in his voice.

"These…stupid…visions…won't…stop!" he said through clenched teeth.

"Dean…what visions?"

"Don't pretend do be all innocent. The visions that are supposed to be yours!" He raised his head and glared at Sam. A steady flow of blood was trickling from his nose, landing on the packed gray carpet of the motel room floor.

"But, why are you having them?" Sam said, watching almost mesmerized as the flow of blood increased. Dean's head dropped again.

"Yet another botched job of yours, you couldn't even get the ritual right! Congratulations, you got your wish! You get to be an only child!! I think I would have been better off without you," Dean ended soflty, menacingly, as he collapsed onto the blood soaked carpet.

"Dean?! DEAN!!" Sam's cry shattered the otherwise peaceful stillness that had fallen over the room. His brother couldn't _be dead, Dean wouldn't be killed so easily. _

Rolling Dean's body over, his stomach did a sickening flop as he realized he now held his dead brother in his arms. His gaze slowly drifted to the window, watching the peaceful snow fall. It was almost as if it was there to taunt him, to remind him that he would never be that pure. His hands would always be soaked with the blood of his brother.

Dean watched in alarm as Sam began to thrash around on the bed again, his monitor steadily increasing.

"Sammy…don't you dare do this to me," Dean growled as he grabbed onto Sam's arms, shaking him. Sam's movements instantly stilled, and he began to repeat over and over again: "He'd be better off without me."

Dean's stomach twisted and he almost retched. The heartbreak he heard coming from his brother broke his heart, and he knew he could do nothing to save him. He had exhausted every contact, he had reread the journal until his eyes about bled, and had come up with nothing.

He was losing Sam, and he couldn't stop it.

Dean didn't know how much more Sam would be able to take, how much he would be able to take. It had been almost twelve hours since his collapse, and he had suffered four "attacks", as the doctors were willing to label them. Each attack brought Sam closer and closer to the point of breaking.

Dean had once again felt the acidic bile rising in his throat as he had watched the doctors shock his brother back to life after the last attack. Sam's face had taken on a grayish color, his lips were tinted blue. He had not even cried out after the last one, he had just flat lined.

It had scared the hell out of Dean. What the hell was going on? If this had to do with their current job, which was becoming more and more apparent, all of the other victims had done themselves in. Why would Sam be different?

He knew Sam had been in trouble, but the thought that he was actually dying hadn't crossed his mind.

Determination suddenly set in again. Something was attacking his brother, and all he was doing was sitting on the sidelines, watching it all happen.

He hated to leave his brother, but he had work to do. "I'll be right back, ok Sammy? I'm just going upstairs, I swear I won't be gone but ten minutes. You just hang on, ok?"

He stormed out of the room, not even caring that the door slammed behind him.

Making his way to the elevator, he pushed the button for the psych floor.

-SN-

_**And She Shall Make Herself Known...**_

"Hey Dean!" Connie greeted him as the doors slid open.

"Hey," Dean replied to the nurse. Her looks no longer appealed to him, all he could think about was his brother. The very sight of her sickened him slightly. He had been out talking with her when Sam had...

No.

The nurse had quickly caught on that they were not who they said they were after Dean had repeatedly called Sam by his real name. Amazingly enough, she had not questioned them on it, she seemed to just accept it.

"I need to see Breanne."

Nodding in understanding, she stepped aside.

Breanne was propped up in bed, looking ten times worse than she had the previous day. After she had suffered her own attack and dislocated her shoulder in the process, the cuffs had been removed with an oath that she wouldn't pull the tube out again.

"Dean…" she gasped.

"Breanne, what the hell is going on?" Dean demanded, not even noticing the slight look of fear that briefly crossed over the young girl's face at his harsh tone.

"Sam…fine?"

"Yeah, he's ok, for now. What the hell happened before…_it_ happened?"

"Tried…to…warn…Sam…she's…after…him…"

Dean's heart skipped a beat. "Who?"

"The…girl…in…my…dreams…She…told…me…I…was…better…off…dead…she…wants…Sam…next…" Beads of sweat began to form on the girl's forehead as the effort to speak was becoming too great.

"Do you have a name?" he knew he shouldn't be forcing the girl to talk, but he needed to know.

"Yes…she…calls…herself…Constance…"

"Is she a spirit?"

Breanne had no clue how she knew, or why she should know the answer to that question, but she did. She also couldn't shake the feeling that she was somehow still attached to the Demon, in a way, linked. The part that scared her was she didn't even question it. "No…she…says…she's…a….demon…from…Hell…"

Muttering a soft curse, Dean turned and stormed from the room.

Constance walked slowly into the room, staring at Breanne.

"No…please…" her victim began to gasp.

"You betrayed me," she said, her gaze murderous. Her eyes were coal black, making even the next darkest shade of black look gray. "You will die."

She placed her hand on the girl's forehead; the shriek of the machines alerted the staff that Breanne's heart had stopped.

Closing her eyes briefly, she reopened them to reveal soft blue eyes.

Pushing the alarm on the wall, she waited while teams came bustling through the door, carrying crash carts.

Constance knew they were too late to save the girl. Taking on a sudden look of concern, she began to perform as a nurse with a dying patient should.

-SN-

"Son of a bitch!" Dean growled as he punched the button for Sam's floor in the elevator. Connie hadn't been sitting at the desk when he'd walked by, but he hadn't noticed. A demon was now after his brother, and he'd be damned if the bitch was going to win.

The doors chimed open and he stepped onto the floor. He walked solemnly down the hall towards his brother's room. Sam hadn't changed since he had last seen him. He let out a silent curse. He was hoping, just hoping, that Sam would have woken while he was gone.

Walking back up to the bed, Dean stood in silent awe of the man before him. He hadn't realized how strong Sam was until now. By the sounds of it, this was a pretty strong demon. Most of its victims were dying after a single dream, most didn't last the second one. Sam had survived numerous dreams, and despite the raw torture his mind was being put through, he continued to fight.

He smiled at the stubbornness of the man in front of him.

Dean lowered his head and looked at his brother closely. Sam almost seemed peaceful, and he had to let out a silent prayer to whoever may be listening that he was actually sleeping. He prayed that no dreams taunted his brother now.

"Sam…you keep saying that "he would be better off without you". I hope that you're not talking about me, because if you are I will kick your ass until it falls off, got it?" Dean lowered himself so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Truth is Sam, I need you. I've always needed you. Why do you think I came to get you at Stanford? I can't do this on my own, you were wrong, I can't. Sam, I don't know what I'll do if you leave me. You can't leave me, I'll probably go insane," he admitted.

"What will I do without my best source of entertainment? Let's face it bitch, you walk into every joke I lay down." Dean lowered his voice, leaning slightly towards his brother. "Sam, you've saved my life more times than I can count, and I owe you so much. You once said I could do this on my own, and I replied that I don't want to. To this day, it's true. If you go off and leave me now…" Dean's voice trailed off. He didn't even know what he would do if he had to continue on by himself.

"I thought you weren't into chick flick moments," came a soft reply from below.

"Sam!!" Dean said, almost hugging his brother. Catching himself, he settled with grabbing Sam's arm. Sam's eyes slowly opened, and blinked several times until evenly meeting Dean's gaze.

"How much of that did you hear?" Dean said, not even really caring.

"Just the last sentence or so. What happened?" Sam's voice sounded tired, and his words cracked as he spoke. ((Imagine his voice in "Bloody Mary" when he asked Dean, "Why'd you let me fall asleep?" sigh sorry haha))

"Well, why don't you tell me? Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I remember having several dreams of you dying. When I realized they were just dreams, they sort of stopped."

"How did you know they were just dreams?"

"I don't know. In everyone, you kept telling me how better off you would have been without me. It began to sound like a broken record to me; the more I heard it the more I was aware of what was going on. Then it all just sort of…clicked."

Sam's eyes slowly closed, and Dean put a little more pressure on Sam's arm.

"Sam?"

"M'kay Dean, juss tired…" Sam sighed before falling silent once more. He fell back asleep with Dean's words echoing in his mind: "Sam, I need you."

Dean carefully moved off the bed and sat back down in the chair with a satisfied grin. He would have to have more faith in the inner strength Sam seemed to possess. He couldn't believe his brother was ok. He almost wanted to wake him back up, and never wanted to let him fall asleep again. Leaning forward, he watched Sam, watched for any small signs of distress. Sam was ok.

* * *

Ok, and onto the next one lol. I apologize for any alerts anyone might be getting, for me uploading the rest of...I think there's 8...chapters. Loves to all. :) 


	5. Upping The Antics

_Let's Up The Antics, Shall We?_

She watched the brothers from the hallway, fuming. She had expected the hunter to be dead by now, and had almost seen herself moving onto the elder sibling by now. She hadn't expected Sam's willpower to be so strong, or the bond between the brothers to be unbreakable. She had even tried to make it easy on the young hunter. Why go through the mess of suicide? She was simply allowing him to go buy heart failure...

She was really going to have to pull out all the stops now. It wouldn't be long until the boys figured out who she was, and they would be coming for her. After witnessing Dean's reaction to his brother's downfall, she was more terrified than she had ever been.

At this point, it was kill or be killed, and she was desperate.

"Thanks Doc," Dean said as they wheeled Sam out the front doors of the hospital.

It was almost a full twenty-four hours after Sam had been admitted, and the doctor was releasing him with a clean bill of health. They had all been amazed at Sam's miraculous recovery at an equally mysterious disease.

"Just make sure he gets plenty of rest," the doctor replied as he watched Sam slowly climb into the passenger side of the black Impala. He had wanted Sam to stay longer, for observation and to run tests, but the boys had refused.

Dean snorted at the doctor's prescription for recovery. He had even written them one for sleeping pills.

"Don't worry Dean, I'll be ok," Sam said as they made their way back to the motel.

"Dude, you just spent a night in hell, and you're going to tell me that you're ok?"

"Yeah, I honestly am. Sure the dreams scared the crap out of me, but they were just dreams. I'm really truly ok."

"Ok," Dean sighed as they pulled into the parking lot. He hoped Sam wasn't just being his usual stubborn self.

"Do you want to talk about them?" Dean asked once they were inside the room.

"Not really," Sam replied.

"Yeah, well I think we should. It might help us find the bitch and kill her," Dean argued.

"How do you know it's a "bitch"? And since when do you offer to talk?"

"Well I'd rather talk abou it now than deal with your moppy ass in a few days. As for the 'bitch' part, I had a little talk with Breanne. She told me it was some sort of demon by the name of Constance. I guess she invades people's dreams and kills them."

"That doesn't make much sense. Why would a demon go to all that trouble? She drives people to kill themselves instead of just finishing them off."

"More enjoyment for her I guess?"

"That's pretty twisted."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean sat down on the bed and pulled out the laptop. "Hey, check it out," he said, motioning for Sam. He sat next to Dean and quietly read the email pulled up on the screen.

"I didn't think Bobby even knew how to turn on a computer much less send an email," Sam laughed. Sure enough it was an email from Bobby, and it had a single link with the words "Be Careful". Clicking on the link, both brothers waited as the page loaded.

It was a page they hadn't seen in their previous searches. It was almost like a little biography for Constance, complete with a picture. Dean's eyes grew wide as his gaze studied the picture. Though there were some differences, he was looking at a picture of Connie, the psych ward nurse.

"Hey, isn't that-" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied quietly, his voice dangerously low.

Sam grabbed the laptop before Dean had the chance to chuck it across the room. "It says here that she is a lower level demon, stripped of most of her abilities half a millennium ago. She was once feared and powerful, but now not even considered a threat. She can only enter through dreams, and cannot actually kill anyone without using your standard every day variety way of killing someone. No wonder she toys with people until they kill themselves." Sam finished, placing the laptop aside.

"That would explain why Breanne's dead," Dean said through clenched teeth.

"She's dead?"

"Yeah, died after I talked to her. Connie must have heard what she told me. Damnit!" Dean's anger was rising, and he looked around the room for something to punch.

"Hey, you didn't know," Sam said quietly. "Let's just concentrate on killing the damned thing so she doesn't do it again."

Both brothers fell quiet. They knew Sam was talking about himself. Dean sat back down, this time on the opposite bed so he could face Sam.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Dude, yes, quit asking." Sam's eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "Do you think I'm going to try to kill myself?"

"She messed with you pretty good."

"And I told you I had a handle on it."

"I'm just saying-"

"Yeah, well stop. Dean, there's no way in hell I'd leave you, not willingly and by my own hand at least."

Dean nodded, wanting to accept Sam's confidence, not having much choice. He knew the truth though, this demon had failed to kill his brother, and he knew she'd be back.

Sam put the laptop on the table and rubbed his eyes. God, he was tired. He was just too scared to fall asleep. He knew as soon as he did, she'd be back. He hadn't wanted to admit to Dean, but he was scared out of his mind. The stay in the hospital had taken its toll on him, dreams or not. Just the fact of seeing Dean say those things to him, dream Dean or not, about how he wasn't needed and how he'd be better off without him, was enough to make Sam uneasy. He hated that he felt that way, but he couldn't shake it.

Dean stood, stretching his arms above his head. "I'm going to go out; I think I saw a coffee shop about a block down. Want anything?"

"Yeah, usual," Sam said, a little distracted.

Dean shrugged into his coat. Opening the door, he noticed it was beginning to snow. _Great_, he thought. He hated the snow.

She watched him, once more from the shadows. He was pacing, talking quietly to himself. He drug his hands through his hair, causing the shaggy mass to stand on end before falling back into his eyes. Once…twice…his hands ran through his hair, down his face to rub his eyes. He continued to pace.

He sure was a prize. He was powerful beyond anyone's imagination. But his mind was so tormented, he was an easy target.

She prepared to do something she has never done before. The fear was gone, she was confident with her new plan. Hell, she might even have fun.

Sam paced the small length of the room. A demon meant an exorcism, an exorcism meant death. That's all he and Dean would have to do. Draw her out in the open and trap her, and perform an all out exorcism.

He stopped, and had the sudden feeling of being watched. Nonchalantly he raised his head and looked around the room. He couldn't see anyone, nothing was out of place.

As soon as it had come, the feeling was gone. Shaking his head, he smiled. Now, not only was he a psychic freak with depressing dreams, he was paranoid.

The door opened and Dean scooted in, holding two cups of steaming coffee. Small flakes clung to his short hair, quickly turning into droplets of water as he handed Sam his cup. Sam took a swig and welcomed the bitter burn that spread across his tongue.

"So I want to know where this fear of me leaving you came from," Dean said, sitting back down on the bed.

"There's nothing-"

"Bull."

Sam clenched his jaw, unsure of how to answer his brother's question.

"There had to be something there for her to build on. Do you honestly think I'd leave you?"

"No. Not unless-" Sam stopped himself this time.

"Damnit Sam, I can't help you if you keep everything to yourself all the time!" Dean said, suddenly jumping to his feet. "I hate it when you feel you have to hide something from me!"

_See how you hurt him…_

Sam's breath hitched in his chest, and he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"I mean, come on! I thought we were a team? How can we be a team if you know everything and I know nothing?" In his anger, Dean didn't notice the horror etched in his brother's face.

_He wants to leave you…_

Dean walked towards the window, his anger ebbing. He turned to face Sam, and the sight that greeted him shocked him. Sam sat on the bed, gasping, his head in his hands.

"Sam?" Dean asked, at his side instantly.

"You…you're going to leave me…we can never be a team…"

Dean forced his brother's head up hoping to talk some sense into him. What greeted him was emptiness. Sam's gaze was unfocused, not really seeing anything in the room.

"Damnit Sam, that's not what I meant. We are a helluva team, you just have to trust that."

"I…I always hurt you. You get in trouble because of me. You'd be better off without me!"

Dean was about to reply when he was suddenly launched backwards, away from Sam. He hit the wall with a grunt, and instead of sliding to the ground, he remained pressed against the wall. He struggled, but he couldn't move. He looked at Sam for a little help, but it was clear he wasn't going to get any.

Sam was seated on the bed, repeating "better off without me" over and over again, rocking slightly.

"Sam! Snap out of it!" Dean yelled as he looked around the room for the source of the threat.

"Shhhh Dean, you'll scare him," a female's voice whispered, laughing.

"Who are you?" he demanded in return.

"Why Dean, that hurts. Just yesterday you wanted my number," Constance complained as she materialized from the shadows. "And now you don't even know who I am?"

"Bitch…" Dean growled.

"Tsk tsk, that's no way for a wannabe priest to talk, is it?" she replied as she moved closer to Sam.

"Don't touch him!" Dean yelled, struggling against the force that pinned him to the wall.

The demon smiled at Dean's fruitless attempt, and place her hand on Sam's forehead. "Sweetheart, it's alright," she whispered, her voice light, almost loving. "Shhhh…just go to sleep. It will all be alright."

"No! No Sam! Don't listen to her damnit, stay awake!" Dean's urgent pleas were met on deaf ears as Sam's eyes slowly closed. Constance slowly pushed him back on the bed.

"Let the games begin," she said, laughing.

-SN-

"Weren't you stripped of your powers?" Dean said, struggling against the ropes that now tied him to the other bed. He felt humiliated and angry, the bitch had tied him spread eagle across the bed. She sat on the other bed with Sam's head in her lap, whispering softly to him and brushing his hair away from his forehead, which would repeatedly fall back into place.

"You don't live this long and not learn a thing or two about getting them back," she resumed the brushing motions. "Sam…it's going to be ok. It will all be over soon," she said, her voice so sweet it sickened him. He struggled against the bonds again, desperate to get to his brother.

"I swear if you don't get your slimy little hands off my brother-"

"What are you going to do?" she demanded, snapping her head up.

"I will tear you apart, you will beg for death," he promised.

"Oh silly Dean," she said, mocking him. "Now keep quiet, I have work to do."

* * *

Thanks for reading. :) 


	6. Dream A Little Dream

This one is especially a long one, at least for me. But I couldn't split this up, I kind of thought it should all be posted together. It's going to jump between Sam's dream world (where the demon is fkin' with him) and reality (where Dean is fighting to get free).

* * *

_**The Dream **_

He was seated on a small black chair in the middle of a white room. The white was bright, but not blinding. He tried to focus, to remember how he'd gotten there.

He was in a white tee shirt and soft blue jeans. His feet were bare.

"Sam."

His head whipped around, looking for the owner of that voice. He recognized that voice. Standing up he began to walk towards where he thought it had come from.

"Sam."

She appeared then, coming slowly out of the blankness, almost materializing. Her long blonde hair flowed around her shoulders, and a soft white dress hugged her curves. She looked angelic, pure.

"Who are you?" Sam asked, squinting.

"I'm a friend." She reached for his hand. "I want to show you something."

"No…no," he stammered as he started backing up. "You're that demon."

Her face crumbled, and her bottom lip quivered, and she dropped her hand. "I'm not a demon."

"You're Constance," Sam insisted. Something was up. He should have felt on edge, uneasy, but he was getting nothing but soothing vibes from the small form in front of him.

"Yes, I am. I was wrongly labeled when they discovered I could help people. I've been fighting for my life for so long now." Tears slowly traced their way down her cheeks, making small puddles at her feet.

"Help people? How do you help them, by killing them?"

"I haven't killed anyone Sam."

"You just killed five teenagers."

"That wasn't me Sam."

Sam snorted.

"And I'm not trying to kill you. I just want what's right."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to save you and your brother. I want to set you both free."

"Look, if you're going to keep up the cryptic crap, I'm outta here."

"You have yet to realize what is after you, don't you?"

"The demon?"

"Yes, the demon. The one that took your mom."

"What do you know about him?!"

"Sam, I'm afraid you're not going to like what I'm about to say." She paused, as if indecisive about telling him. Nodding her head, she continued, "he wants you Sam, and you have no clue what he's capable of. If he gets his hands on you, the power you possess, the world will be in danger. Your brother, your father, everyone you know and love will die. But I can protect you Sammy; I can save your family."

"First of all, no one calls me that but Dean. And how do you think you can save them?" Sam raised his eyebrow. There was so much coming at him at once, he was having a hard time digesting it all.

"I can give you a glimpse of your future, then I can change your past."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I cannot change your past without your permission. If I show you your future, maybe you'll decide you want it so you can save everyone."

"My future?"

"Close your eyes Sam."

Sam closed his eyes, and the peacefulness vanished. He heard someone cry out, first in terror, then in pain. "Please Sam…" His eyes shot open, and immediately he regretted looking.

He was in an old cabin, nothing was in the room except for a small table. Dean was pressed up against the wall, blood trickling from his mouth as he begged the man torturing him.

"Please Sam…"

Sam gasped, he recognized the man…it was him.

((I had a hard time describing this section, so bare with me. When I talk about Sam, I'm talking about the evil one. Our Sam is watching.))

A dry humorless laugh escaped from his lips and he smacked Dean again.

"Well what's the matter? I never thought I'd see the day when the mighty Dean Winchester would beg for his life. Especially at the hands of his own brother!"

Dean stayed silent, defiantly glaring.

"Face it Dean, I'm meant for great things!" Sam turned, his eyes flashing an eerie yellow. "The demon released my true potential! He made me realize I was fighting for the wrong side the whole time. Now, all I have to do is deal with you!" Sam sneered at his victim, and Dean screamed. Blood began to pour down his chest, and his scream was cut short as blood began to flood his throat, drowning him.

"Sam…" Dean whispered as his head drooped. Sam knew without a doubt the evil version of himself had just killed his brother.

"Noooo!" Sam said, willing the scene in front of him to go away.

"Sam…shhhhh…it's ok," a voice soothed him. He opened his eyes and realized he was once again in the white room. Constance was sitting next to him, on her own black chair.

Sam shook his head, "I…I don't understand."

"There's only one way you can stop the demon from getting to you Sam, turning you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you, the demon must be stopped."

"No…no…I can fight him."

Constance sighed. "Will you at least let me show you what I'm going to do?"

Sam knew it wouldn't hurt. She had said she couldn't do anything without his permission. Nodding slightly, he took her outstretched hand.

_**The Reality **_

Dean watched in horror as Constance weaved her lies. Some of the things she had said to Sam…he immediately knew what she was doing. She was going to gain Sam's trust, then make him destroy himself.

He couldn't understand the Latin she was whispering to his brother, but he could catch small snippets. When she had started talking about the demon, Sam had whimpered in his sleep, his face contorting in pain.

Dean had cussed and screamed and pulled at the ropes, earning nothing more than a dry throat and raw wrists.

Sam once again calmed, looking almost content. Then she asked him a question, and he nodded.

"Sammy…" Dean whispered, a lump forming in his chest.

_**The Dream **_

He stood in the center of the dark street, a dog barked off in the distance. The street lights above him flickered for a moment, then settled. He looked at the house in front of him, and realized in horror he was staring at their home in Lawerence. Parked in front was the Impala. But what's Dean doing here?

He heard a bone chilling scream from inside the house. He knew without a doubt who it was. Mom.

A little boy of about four came running down the steps. The bundle of blankets he should have been carrying was gone. Sam remembered Dean had told him he'd carried him out of the house. _Maybe he went back to get me._

In shock he watched as his father came running out of the house, scooping little Dean up.

"Would the world be better if you had died with your mother that night?" Sam turned to find Constance standing beside him, a slight frown on her face.

"Would it?" Sam repeated, wondering. What was he good for anyway? Everyone he ever cared about seemed to get hurt around him, and he constantly found himself needing to be rescued.

"Let's jump a couple years down the road." Sam took her hand once more.

_"Winchester's Repair and Restoration"_

Sam stared in shock at the sign above his head. A small normal looking mechanic shop stood in front of him.

"Thank you Mr. Cooper," his father said, accompanying a man in a business suit.

"No, thank you John. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been able to rebuild my Mustang! Tell that boy of yours he's got a knack for fixing cars!"

"After his wife and youngest son was killed," Constance said, once again standing beside him, "he spent some time in denial, suffered a short bout of depression. When he came out of it, he realized he had to do anything to protect his remaining son, not daring to leave him on his own. He never took up hunting."

Sam's lip quivered at the thought. His father had ignored the fact he was leaving his two sons while he went and hunted. He knew the boys would be alright on their own, they had each other. In a world without Sam, his father knew what he had to do to protect his only remaining son.

"They moved to Colby, in western Kansas. John opened his own garage once again, where Dean comes occasionally and helps him."

"Occasionally?"

"When he's not busy playing basketball or leading up the newest school play. He's quite the extra curricular hog."

"Can I see him?"

"Sure."

They were in a small theater, the interior was dark and the only light illuminated a small stage.

"Excuse me, excuse me," John said as he took his seat. He laughed with a few of the parents around him, shaking hands as he greeted his friends. Sam had never seen his father look so happy.

The red curtain was swept to the side, and Sam's eyes were transfixed on the stage as he watched a fifteen year old version of his brother sing and dance the "West Side Story".

Like some sort of dream, in a flash it was the end of the play. The actors were coming out and taking a bow. John rose from his seat and began to whoop and clap. Sam had never seen his father look so proud.

"Would you like to see a couple more years?"

Sam nodded, tears filling his eyes.

"Congratulations class of 1997! I would now like to introduce your class president, here to give opening comments, Dean Winchester!"

Sam's jaw dropped as Dean took the stage.

"Class president?!" Sam asked Constance.

"Yeah, with out all that hunting, and with his father's full support, Dean became quite successful and popular in school."

Sam smiled, listening to his brother praise the school faculty and give words of encouragement to his classmates. Dean looked so happy.

Constance grinned behind Sam's back. She silently congratulated herself, deeming this to be her best job yet. She had never woven such a thick web of lies before, and was doing amazingly well. She watched as the strong fearless hunter crumbled before her. His dream was beginning to become his reality. It wouldn't be long now.

_**The Reality **_

Slowly lowering Sam's head, Constance stumbled from the bed.

"Aw what's the matter sweetheart, tired?" her prisoner smirked from the bed.

"Just a little. It's been hard to show your brother a perfect world without him in it."

"What did you do?" Dean growled.

"Well, lets see, the last thing I showed him was a very happy successful class president Dean ushering his classmates into graduation. Who would have known you'd be so political if it weren't for Sam?"

"He'll never believe it."

"Well, I'm not so sure about that. See, after both he and his mother were killed that fateful night, his father vowed to protect his only remaining son, seeking a life of protection over that of vengeance."

"You bitch," he swore. Of course Sam would buy into that. He would _want_ that...and it would cloud his judgement.

"Oh my Dean, are we jealous? Maybe you'd actually prefer a life like that?"

"No thanks, I've never been the "Vote for Me" kind."

"Oh, but with out your precious Sam, you would have been."

"Only in your twisted little world."

"And in his."

Constance walked back over to Sam, and placed her hand on his forehead. "Well I'll be damned. He continued the dream on his own."

_**The Dream **_

Sam watched as Dean hoisted his son onto his lap so he could blow out the candles. Little Sam, as Dean had named him, was turning four.

He had continued witnessing his brother's bigger better life, but Constance was no where to be found.

"What did you wish for?" Vicky said, putting her arm around her husband's shoulders.

"It's a secret," little Sam giggled.

Sam had watched as his father happily retired, turning the garage over to Dean. Dean had met a local librarian, married her, and they had their first son a year later.

Sam smiled as Dean tossed his son in the air, little Sam laughed. "Hey kiddo, why don't you go upstairs and get your mit? We'll practice!"

A sob escaped Sam's lips. He remembered when Dean used to call him kiddo. It hurt to watch his brother so happy. It hurt to see what his life would have been like. It hurt because he knew he was the reason it wasn't so.

Two years later flashed before Sam, and his brother welcomed a daughter. His father also had a new love interest, someone he'd met while vacationing in the Caribbean.

Constance was beside him once more.

"Can we go now?" Sam said, tears running silently down his face.

"Yes."

The white room greeted him once more. He sank into the single black chair, his mind reeling.

"I can make that happen Sam. We can make that happen."

"How?"

"Do you honestly believe your family would be better off without you?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

_**The Reality **_

"They're better off without me."

Dean's head jerked over as he studied his little brother. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; he couldn't believe what was happening.

Closing his eyes, he emptied his mind of all thoughts except for Sam. He couldn't believe he was about to do what he was going to do, but Sam was worth it. He reached out for his little brother with all his heart.

_**The Dream **_

"They're better off without me."

"Good Sam, good. Are you willing to do anything to make it right?"

Sam nodded, his eyes cast downward. Constance smiled at the broken man in front of her. He had been a challenge, but she would be the victor.

"Anything."

"Including live?" a new voice broke the stillness.

Constance gasped as she stared at Dean.

"I can't live…I'm not supposed to," Sam muttered, completely missing the fact that they had company.

"What are you doing here?" Constance hissed.

"What? You think you're the only one that can get to Sam?"

Constance was about to object when Dean sent her flying.

"How is that possible?!" she screeched, picking herself up.

"See, this is my brother's head. You may hold a certain amount of power here, but considering who I am and what I mean to him, I hold a bit more." Dean winked, and Constance was gone.

"Sam, listen to me, we don't have much time. I would be lost without you. Why can't you see that?"

"You wouldn't know it if you didn't know me." The defeat in his voice angered Dean.

"What? You think I'd prefer the preppy lifestyle? You think I'd run for class president and bake cookies?"

"If you grew up different-"

"No Sam, not in a million years. Besides, do you honestly believe Dad would just give up hunting? If anything, your death would have driven him over the edge. He would have been careless, and would have gotten himself killed. Hell, for all we know, you saved him too."

Sam's eyes raised, meeting with Deans.

Dean used this, and grabbed Sam's shoulders. "I once told you I would do anything for you. You'd return the favor, right?"

"Of course-"

"Then let's cut the crap, leave the whole Beaver's lifestyle behind, and go kill that demon."

"She said she would save you."

Before Dean could reply, he felt a pain in his chest. Looking down, he saw blood. It ran from the cut across his chest, staining the perfect white floor. "What the-"  
Sam gasped and dropped the knife that had suddenly appeared in his hands. The knife covered in blood. The blade hit the ground, sending little droplets of blood everywhere. _Dean's blood._

"No…Sam…you didn't do this!" Dean yelled, seeing all the progress he had just made vanish. But Dean was no longer looking at Sam straight on. Instead, he was seeing himself and Sam.

"Sam! How could you?" his double yelled, clutching his chest.

"Dean…oh my God…Dean…" Sam sobbed, catching "Dean" as he fell.

"No, Sam, that's not me!" Dean screamed. He watched in horror as the "Dean" in front of him began accusing Sam.

"I always protected you, worried till I was sick about you, I came into your head for crying out loud to save you! And you repay me by killing me. I would have been better off without you!" "Dean" spat before his body gradually went limp.

"Dean…I'm so sorry…" Sam wept, tears falling off his chin to land on "Dean's" shirt.

"Damnit Sam, snap out of it!" Dean yelled. The scene in front of him faded to black.

_**The Reality **_

Dean gasped as he woke, the pain in his chest sharp. He looked up to find Constance standing above him with a bloody knife. He glanced down at his chest and saw a deep gash, the sheets around him were already stained red.

"That worked out way better than I could have ever imagined!!" Constance squealed in delight, clapping. "You may have pushed me out, but you ended up pushing your brother over the edge. Congrats."

Dean fought against the ropes, sending a searing pain across his chest. Blood that had caked and dried once again began to flow.

"Sam, sweetie, wake up," Constance crooned.

Sam's eyes opened and he sat up slowly.

"Are you ready?" Sam nodded.

"Sam…Sammy…whatever it is you're going to do, you can just forget it right now."

For a moment Sam's head perked, and he looked at the bed where Dean was being held. "Dean?"

"You killed your brother, remember? This is the only way you can save him. Once you finish it, I'll go back and save him. This is the only way." Sam frowned, and gazed downward at his hands. He began furiously rubbing them on his jeans, as if trying to wipe something off.

"Dean's blood…it's on my hands…it's all over me…"

"Sam! No! You ignore that psycho bitch and you listen to me! I'm still here!! Whatever it is you're going to do, don't do it!" Dean's pleas fell on deaf ears. Sam couldn't see him, couldn't hear him, all he knew was grief. It consumed him, dulling his senses and filling him with an empty, numbing void.

"He's better off without me."

"I swear to God Sammy, if I hear you say that one more time, I'm going to kill you myself!" Dean said, desperate to get through to his brother.

"That's right, he will be. Here," Constance encouraged him, handing him a small pistol.

Sam's hand shook as he placed the gun under his chin. As he cocked it, his eyes slowly closed.

"NO!" Dean screamed. He couldn't do it. But yet he was going to be forced to watch his little brother blow his own brains out.

"Dean?" Sam whispered, momentarily lowering the gun. He's heard Dean's voice call to him, echoing through the void that surrounded him.

"Hurry Sam, your brother's running out of time," Constance stated.

Placing the pistol underneath his chin once more, he pulled the trigger.

* * *

I would say "Oh look, an evil cliffy..." but all I can say is "Oh look, the next chapter..." 

Once again FanFic by machine gun. I also apologize for any alerts ya'll are going to receive, all at once...


	7. Lookin' Up and Fallin' Far

_Someone Upstairs Is Watchin' Out..._

The small click of the weapon was deafening in the silent room. Dean's eyes popped open the moment he heard it, and for a moment he thought he was going to lose control of his bladder he was so happy. Sam still stood in front of him, barely moving. Constance had a small frown on her face.

"I can't even kill myself!" Sam wailed as he dropped the pistol. "I fail at that! God, what am I good for?!" Dean cocked his head in confusion. Sam was getting hysterical, something was off, he was being a bit too dramatic, even for Sam. It almost sounded as if he was mocking the situation.

"Here honey, let me get you something else," Constance said, as she searched Dean's bag for another weapon. Before Dean knew what was happening, Sam had the crow bar in his hands, and was swinging it at the demon's head. It connected with a sickening crunch, and she went down.

Dean's jaw dropped, and for once he was speechless. Sam dropped the crowbar and ran to his brother. "Oh God Dean," Sam said as he began to undo the knots. His hands shook as he fumbled with the ropes that were cruely cutting into his brother's wrists.

"Sam…Sammy…man, are you ok?" Dean said, finding his voice.

"Um, yeah. I think so. Good thing I emptied all the guns out when I found out a suicide inducing demon was after me." Dean grinned at the genius that was his brother.

Soon he was free. Little bolts of pain cut jaggedly into his limbs as he moved them. His fingers and toes began to tingle as he forced the circulation back into them.

"How-" Constance groaned on the floor. Dean walked over and swung his leg around, allowing his boot to connect with the demon's jaw. She fell silent once more.

"Let's just get her ready for our little ritual, shall we?" Sam said with a small glimmer in his eyes.

_Damn I missed that_, Dean admitted to himself as he helped Sam get ready.

-SN-

Constance slowly woke, groaning. What the hell had happened? One minute she was witnessing the fall of the Winchesters, the next her head was filled with blinding white pain. She raised her head, her neck screaming in protest. Damn the weak human body she was bound to.

She found herself staring at two very pissed off hunters. Quickly she surveyed her surroundings. She was still in the hotel room, but she was bound to a chair. A piece of duct tape covered her mouth, silencing any chance she might have at survival. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the brothers. Suddenly, she smiled inwardly. She still had a chance. Her gaze shifted to the younger hunter, as he leafed through a small leather book, undoubtedly searching for the perfect exorcism.

Dean watched as the demon studied his brother, determinations sparking in her eyes. Unconsciously he stepped between the threat and his blood.

Sam flipped through the pages as fast as his shaking fingers would allow. He was filled with an inner turmoil, one he couldn't shake. He knew what the demon had done to trick him, yet he couldn't shake the images and feelings that haunted him now. He had to set them aside. There'd be plenty of chances for self-evaluation and therapy later. He had to make sure there would be a later. Grabbing the bottle of holy water, he began to dump it on the demon. She hissed and screeched as the sacred fluid hit her skin.

Sam's voice filled the room, "I exorcise you unclean spirit in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Come out and leave this servant of God, Constance. Accursed and damned spirit, hear the command of God himself, he who walked upon the sea and extended his right hand to Peter as he was sinking."

Constance ignored the pain that was ignited in her body, concentrating on Sam. She invaded his consciousness once again, flashing images at him. Dean dying…Dean in pain…Dean's blood on his hands…He faltered, grabbing his head, and momentarily stopping the flow of condemning words.

Dean roared and lashed out at the demon with all he had. He was tired of her picking on Sam; it was going to stop now. He suddenly felt like they were in high school again, no one was allowed to pick on Sam but him. Constance's head snapped back with the force of the blow, breaking her already fragile hold on Sam. She was seriously weakened and sensed her end was near.

"Therefore, accursed devil, acknowledge your condemnation... and depart from this servant of God Constance. Never dare, accursed devil, to violate the sign of the holy cross which we place upon his/her forehead. Through Christ our Lord." Sam finished, making a small sign of the cross.

"I'm taking him with me!" she screamed right before her host's mouth fell open and her body jerked, releasing a large black cloud towards the ceiling. The cloud swirled and danced, before shooting towards the Winchester.

Dean watched in horror as the cloud shot through Sam's body and came out of the other side, finally dispersing.

"That was weird," Sam said, locking eyes with Dean before collapsing.

"Sam!"

-SN-

Dean watched through the closed doors as doctors and nurses bustled around his brother. He was in shock. Everything had gone so well, Sam had fought his way back to him and they were killing the demon. Then things had gone horribly wrong. The dramatic 180 degree turn they had taken had shaken him, leaving him speechless. He'd also been shocked when the host body for Constance had turned to ashes as soon as she had been exorcised.

Dean crossed his arms in front of his chest, wincing as it brought an arc of white hot pain from shoulder to shoulder. He'd forgotten about the stitches. When he'd brought Sam in, a doctor had insisted on taking care of the huge gash, even though Dean insisted he was fine. All he wanted to do was be at his brother's side. The medical team had actually prevented him from doing so until he'd given in to being stitched up.

"Clear!" a doctor's voice jerked him back to reality. They were _shocking_ Sammy.

Dean felt the strength leave his knees as he fell back against the wall and slid to the floor. He suddenly couldn't breathe. He couldn't bare the thought of going on without his geeky little brother. His lopsided grins and puppy-dog looks…pain radiated through Dean's chest as he struggled to draw in oxygen.

"Dean, it'll be ok, breathe," someone was telling him. Looking up, he saw Sam.

"Sam?"

"Yep."

"But…you're…you're in _there_," Dean said softly, pointing to the closed doors.

"So it would seem."

"Damnit Sam, did you die on me? Of all the-"

"No, I…I don't think so. When the demon shot through me, it felt like she was tearing my soul from my body. I guess she did. So, you gonna get up off the floor now?"

Trying to hide his embarrassment and confusion, he climbed to his feet, "You better figure out a way to get back in there, right now."

"I've already tried. It's like ramming into a brick wall," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

Dean couldn't help it but he laughed at the image of Sam trying to jump back inside his own body. Sam tilted his head as he heard his brother laugh, which caused Dean to laugh again.

"Sorry Sammy, but even you have to admit this newest disaster is kind of funny."

Sam frowned, not understanding where the humor was. Dean shook his head, "Yeah never mind."

"Mr. Tyler?" Turning from his see through brother, he watched as a doctor walked over to him. "I'm Dr. Stevens; I attended your brother when you first brought him in."

"How is he?"

"He's stable for now. Breathing on his own, which is a good sign. We're giving him antibiotics to treat the large burn on his chest, and-"

"Wait, large burn?"

"Yes, he has a large circular burn in the center of his chest. You didn't know?"

Dean shook his head, so the doctor continued, "We're not quite sure why he is still out of it, but we're going to keep him under close observation, and his outlook is good. You have quite a fighter there."

"Thanks Doc," Dean said, turning back to where his brother had been. Sam was no longer standing beside him.

"Sam? Sam?" Dean whispered into thin air, earning him weird looks from the nurses. Going back towards the room that held his brother's body, he peeked in the small windows. Sam stood beside himself, looking down. Looking either way to see if anyone was watching him, he slipped inside the room and stood next to his transparent sibling.

"This is just weird," Sam said, poking at himself. Instead of making contact with his own pale cheek, his fingers passed through.

"You're telling me. You sure you aren't dying on me?"

"Yeah, Dean I'm pretty sure. I feel fine, like I should still be here. I think the demon seriously just separated me in an attempt to kill me maybe?"

"Not sure, but I swear we'll fix this. And after all this is over, you and I are going to have a serious chat about your security issues and your seeming lack of trust in me."

"Dean-"

"No, later."

"Fine, you're such a pain in the ass sometimes."

"Look who's talking Casper."

Dean sat in the chair beside his brother's bed. Ghost Sam stood in the corner, leaning up against the wall. Neither man had spoken, each lost in their own thoughts. Dean was furiously trying to come up with a way of putting his brother back together, and Sam was freaked.

He had assured Dean he wasn't dying, but now he wasn't so sure. It's not like he felt a pull, or a need to move on, and wondered if it was that whole 'unfinished business' thing that kept him here. He also knew it was going to be tough getting back into his body. But his body was still _alive._

Dean's mind was racing. He knew he didn't have that long. How long could a soul last outside of the body anyway? He pretty much had his father's journal memorized, and he knew there was nothing quite like this in it. He had also considered calling Missouri, but remembered she was flying out of the country to visit some old friends.

Pulling out his phone, he knew who he should call.

"Pastor Jim?"

"Dean? How are you?"

"I'm good. Listen, we've run into a bit of a problem."

"Shoot."

"Well, we met up with a Constance-"

"The demon?!"

"Yep. Know her?"

"She's dangerous Dean, be careful."

"She's also dead."

"Wait…what?"

"Yeah, Sam performed an English Catholic exorcism, sent her ass back to hell."

"Wow, boys, that's just amazing, no one has been able to pin her down and kill her. What's the problem then?"

"Before she took off, she attacked Sam. She…I think she separated his soul from his body."

"Oh my."

"Yeah."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, because I'm sitting here looking at Sam's soul as we speak."

"Oh my."

"You're starting to get all 'broken record' on me."

"Sorry. This is just an unusual situation. Very unique."

"Do you have any ideas?"

"Some, but it calls for more research. How long has Sam been…out of his body?"

Dean glanced at the clock on the wall. "About four hours now."

"We need to hurry. I don't think he has that much longer. Give me an hour and I'll be calling you back."

"Please hurry."

* * *

Thanks for reading. :) 


	8. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

_**Not Really Dean's Smartest Move...**_

Dean fidgeted in the chair. Sam remained leaning up against the wall, staring at his own incapacitated body. For the hundredth time he will himself back into his body. For the hundredth time nothing happened.

"While we wait, why not have that talk."

Sam remained silent.

"Why on earth would you think I'd leave you?"

"She was playing with my mind, putting my emotions on steriods."

"Once again, she had to have something latch onto and use against you. You need to put that fear to rest, I'm not going anywhere."

"I realize that now."

"Do you? I mean, honestly Sam, do you really?"

"Look back at the past 10 months Dean. A big percentage of the hunts we've gone on have led to you risking your butt to save mine. I'll bet that never happened when you hunted with Dad."

"Actually, you'd be surprised."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but we're not talking about Dad. We're talking about you."

"Look Dean, I don't honestly know where that fear came from. I think it's something I've always had, even when we were kids I used to be afraid I'd wake up and you'd be gone. I know you wouldn't just outright leave me, but I think that someday our luck is going to run out and one of us is going to end up dead."

Wanting to dodge that last one, knowing he couldn't put Sam's or even his own mind at ease, Dean switched gears, "When she attacked you the last time, what did you see?"

"You know, you saw."

"No, I just repeated what the demon told me she was making you see."

"Well, when I died with Mom in that fire, Dad didn't take up hunting. He was too afraid of leaving you on your own. So, you guys moved to another town. You grew up normal, even got married and had a couple of kids. Dad opened his own garage and you took it over one day when he retired. You all looked so happy. I would do anything to make it become a reality."

"Wow do you have Dad pegged wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember what I told you when I came to you?"

"No." The end of the dream had been a blur of suicidal thoughts and depression.

"You know Mom's death almost killed him. Yours probably would have sent him over the edge, and he would have gotten careless and reckless, probably getting himself killed. Where would that have left me? An orphan bouncing from home to home, knowing my luck, and probably would have ended up a criminal. Is any of this sinking in?"

"Yeah, it actually is." Sam hadn't considered how his father would have actually reacted if he had died. He was just so ready to believe in something more.

"Sam, I'm going to say this once, and you're going to listen. I need you. I do. I'll openly admit it this one time. I need you as a partner, a friend," Dean paused, "a brother."

Sam nodded, tears forming in his eyes.

"Oh God Sam, if you resort to crying, I will walk away and leave your ass right now."

"You are such a jerk."

"And you're a pansy."

Dean's phone rang then, signaling the end of their moment.

"Pastor Jim?"

"Hey, Dean. Sorry it took so long."

"Naw, you're good. Sam's still hangin' on. What did you find out?"

"Well, I've got some good news and some bad news."

"That sounds promising. Hit me with the good news first."

"You managed to take out one of the Ancients."

"Ancients?"

"Yes, an extremely powerful group of demons, said to be the first that walked the earth. Constance I guess was banished for betraying them, and half of her powers were stripped, leaving her weak."

"Wow, so we're Super Hunters. What's the bad news?" Dean asked, almost afraid to hear it.

"The only one who can put Sam back is her."

"Son of a-" Dean caught himself, remembering who he was talking to. "Any suggestions?"

"Well, we can continue to research, and I can call a few more people, and we can hope for the best."

"Jim, what aren't you telling me?"

"I can't-"

"Jim, this is Sammy we're talking about."

A long pause answered him. Finally, he heard a sigh. "You could summon the demon, and make her do it."

"Jim, we exorcised her. She's dead."

"You can't kill an Ancient Dean, banished or not. You just sent her back to Hell is all with a one way ticket."

"So if I summon her, who's to say she won't kill us, then go on her merry little way?"

"Well, there's no way of knowing. But if you summon her, I want you to do it here. I can help you; I know how to control her once she gets here."

"I'm not leaving Sam."

"Alright, I'll come to you; I think we need Sam's body anyway. Dean, this is only if you're absolutely sure you don't want to wait to see if we can find anything else out."

Dean looked up at his brother, who seemed twice as transparent as before. "We don't have that luxury. We're in Creede, CO. Get here as soon as you can."

"I'm gone."

"How's my favorite patient today?" Dr. Stevens asked as he came in the room. He began to check Sam's vitals, and made notes in his chart.

"No change," Dean moaned, rubbing his eyes. He'd fallen asleep in the small plastic chair, and his already sore arms and legs screamed in protest as he stood.

"We're still optimistic." Somehow, the doctor's voice was too monotone, too professional. And it really bothered Dean.

"Yeah, Doc, there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about. See, I have a friend coming, sort of as a religious favor. Are there any rooms we could move into that are more private?"

"Well, I'm sure this room-"

"No, not for what we want to do. Please, I know you are doing everything in your power to help him, I believe he needs spiritual guidance now." Dean almost laughed at himself. He had never poured so much sincerity into his voice before, and he would love to have seen his eyes. He was making them as wide as possible. They must have looked huge...and doe-y.

"I'll…see what I can do," Dr. Stevens said, wondering what the boy had in mind. Turning he began to make notes as he left the room.

It was then Dean realized he couldn't see Sam anywhere in the room.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

Dean jumped, his eyes searching the room. "Where are you?"

"Uh, right here, in front of you. You can't see me?"

"That's a negative Ghost Rider."

"That's not good."

"Sam, hang on damnit, I mean it. If you leave me, I will find you and kick the tar out of you."

"Dean, I'm not going anywhere."

"You better not."

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you think it is that you can still see me?"

"Huh? Last time I checked I can't see you."

"You know what I mean. I'm supposedly a spirit, right? As far as we know, no one should be able to see me. Yet, you can."

"I was actually wondering the same thing."

"Do you think it's because...we're so close?"

"Maybe. I don't know Sam, you weren't separated from your body in the normal way, so anything's possible."

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam was amazed Dean had failed to make a snappy comeback at the possibility of them being _that_ close.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay with me."

Sam wasn't so sure he could keep that promise. It was bad news if Dean couldn't see him, and he was beginning to feel the pull. He wasn't sure where to, wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he'd fight it with everything he had. His brother's last plea had made sure of that. He never thought he'd hear such pain in his brother's voice, and that scared him. Scared him enough to make him fight. For the first time he was afraid of what might happen to Dean if he died. He couldn't believe a demon had made him think Dean would actually be happy.

"There you are," Dean nodded, looking right at him.

"You can see me?"

"Yep."

Sam held on to that feeling of determination. He'd do anything to stay grounded.

-SN-

Dean whistled, looking around the new room. It was spacious, with stained wooden floors and matching cabinets above the bed and across the room. A long couch which folded out into a bed sat underneath the window, which looked down at the small town around them. They also had their own private bathroom.

They were in the old maternity ward. A new one had been finished a couple months back, and these rooms had yet to be taken apart and refurbished. The doctor, not wanting to deny any religious rights and bring a lawsuit on the hospital, had agreed to move Sam temporarily. Dean had promised they'd only need a couple hours, and complete privacy.

"Hell we should just stay up here," Dean said, pulling out the bed and stretching out on it. "This beats that old chair any day."

"Very funny Dean. If this works, hopefully we'll be out by tonight."

"Have you thought about how we're going to explain this? Your unexplained coma, then your miraculous recovery?"

"I can't seem to remember a thing," Sam said, his tone light and his words taking on a subtle southern drawl. "I guess my big ol' brother is gonna have to do all the talkin'."

Dean couldn't seem to come up with a comeback as soon as he caught the huge grin lighting up his brother's face. The best he could come up with was "You're an ass."

"You know I'd do it."

"You're an ass," Dean repeated, making Sam laugh. The laughter died down as soon as they noticed they had a visitor.

"Is he here?" Pastor Jim asked. Dean nodded. "All right, here's the plan," Jim said, getting right to work. He opened his journal and pointed to a large circular symbol. "We're going to bring the demon into this circle, trapping her. There, we can force her to bring Sam back."

"Any clue on how we're going to force her?"

"Hmm…I was thinking along the lines of torture."

"Jim, I like the way you think."

"I may be a man of God, but I'm also just a man," he replied winking, a twinkle in his eye. "There's also a better chance of me being forgiven."

Dean laughed, and began to laugh a little harder when he heard Sam's join in with his.

Within ten minutes a Circle of Solomon was drawn on the floor, and the two men stood ready. One with his journal, the other with a vial of holy water. The only sound in the room was the steady beeping from Sam's monitor.

"Ok, now as soon as we get her to throw Sam back in his body, we start exorcising her, got it?"

"Yeah," Dean said, a nervous feeling leaving him speechless for once. He wasn't one to let his emotions get away, but here they were, about to bring the very demon back that had planned to kill his brother.

Pastor Jim then began to chant, his wrinkled fingers tracing gentle paths on the paper as he read the words in Latin. Taking out a small knife, he made a small cut in his finger, allowing a small drop of blood to fall in the circle at the top of the Trap. He continued to read the Latin, taking his time and pronouncing each word with perfection.

Sam stood on the opposite side from his brother. His eyes never left Dean's, and Dean didn't bother to look away. Sam's eyes were full of trust, and Dean hoped it wasn't being misled.

A bright red light began to shine in the center of the circle, causing Dean to shield his eyes. The light began to blink, and then was replaced by the image of a woman.

Constance stood before them, though in a different form, they knew it was her. She had long black hair, her eyes were a dark shade of green, and a small black dress hugged her curves. She would have been mesmerizing, even beautiful, if it wasn't for the whole being evil and trying to kill Sam part.

"Why Dean, that's awfully kind of you to say," she said, spinning around, her attention fully on him. "I can make myself appear in any form, and I knew you would find this appealing." She spun in another slow circle, her dark eyes coming to rest on Sam. "There you are my pet, I knew I had forgotten something." She even had the nerve to laugh.

Dean's hand gripped the bottle of water, so tight he thought he was going to pop the top off. He wanted to say something, anything, that would bring her attention away from his brother, but at Jim's warning look, he stayed silent.

"And what do you intend to do old man?" she questioned, aiming her attention on Jim.

"You will make right what you have wronged," he said quietly, his voice low and foreboding.

"And why would I want to do something silly like that?"

"Dean?" Jim asked, not needing to say anything more. Constance screamed out as the sacred water touched her skin, burning, sizzling, eating her flesh. She tried to run but was knocked flat on her back as she met with the edge of the circle. Jim waved his hand, signaling for Dean to stop. Dean stopped, a huge smirk on his face.

The demon lay in the middle of the circle, panting heavily in pain.

"Once again, you will right what you have wronged."

"Bite me," she said sweetly, a grin spreading across her face. Jim nodded at Dean again, and began to recite the same exorcism ritual Sam had used. The feeling of her body being cast back into Hell mingled with the holy water...it was too much for her to take, and soon she was screaming out. "All right, all right, I'll do it," she panted.

Forcing herself to her feet, she turned her attention to Sam. Her lips moved without making a sound, and a small gust of wind swept across the room. Sam suddenly gasped and clutched his stomach, doubling over in pain.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, fully intending on bathing the woman in holy water. Jim held up his hand, watching the scene in front of him. The demon's lips continued to move in a silent dance, and Sam was now on his hands and knees, dry heaves jerking his body. He looked up at Dean, their eyes met, and a chill swept through the room once again. He didn't like the look in Sam's eyes. It was sheer panic.

Dean shivered, involuntarily crossing his arms over his chest, ignoring the pull of the stitches. He continued to stare into his brother's eyes when suddenly his transparent form faded from view.

"SAM!"

At the same moment, the form in the middle of the circle burst into a chaotic swirl of dark gray mist. Dean began to charge the circle, his mind only focusing on killing the mist, anyway he could. He stopped in an instant when he heard a gasp coming from the bed.

Sam was awake.

Dean changed his course and charged for the bed with a cry of relief. The gray mist let out a scream as Jim finished his exorcism. The scream had sounded human, almost male.

"Sam, God, man, how ya feelin'?"

"Never better," he growled, his eyes glowing, then changing black.

"Sam?" Dean gasped, a lump growing in his throat and a coldness surrounding his heart, suffocating him. "Constance."

"Ding ding! Give the hunter a prize!" she taunted, using Sam's voice and making his lips curve into a sadistic grin. "And I'll give you one guess as to who you just sent back to Hell."

-SN-

The cold hard wooden floor met painfully with Dean's knees as he collapsed. He fell forward, catching his upper body with his arms, his head falling forward. His throat was too constricted to speak, so he just stayed there, silent, pain wracked, broken.

Pastor Jim moved towards Dean, intending on getting between him and the demon. He was terrified about what had just happened, and he knew that Dean was incapable of protecting himself now. He was almost to the fallen hunter when the demon turned on Jim, freezing him in his tracks. He fought to take another step, but found he was unable to do so.

"This body…has…such incredible power!" she laughed, narrowing her eyes. Jim was still having a hard time believing it was a demon, and not the Sam he knew so well. But the eyes were cold, empty. Sam was no where to be found with in their darkened depths. He prayed they had not sent him to Hell in her place.

"Sam, please forgive me."

-SN-

Sam clutched at his stomach, the pain was so intense. He knew in that moment that he was dying. He heard her, the words she was chanting, and somehow he understood them. She was going to possess his body, and let them kill him instead. He tried to cry out, tried to warn Dean, but no words would form, nothing would leave his lips.

He felt separated all of a sudden, light, floating. The pain was still there, and it was growing. He watched as his body gasped, he watched as Dean ran towards it, and watched as his brother cried out. He wanted to warn Dean so bad, wanted to tell him that something was wrong, that wasn't him. Before he had the chance to even try, Pastor Jim continued the exorcism, and the pain intensified to a level he had never known. It was then he knew for sure he was dying. All the pain, all the anguish, consumed him, until he knew nothing else. He opened his mouth and let out a deafening scream.

The pain, the anguish, stayed with him as he fell into a bright black void. He was now alone, a thought that washed over him in an icy wave of fresh pain. He had always had someone to depend on, his father, Dean, Jessica, now he had no one.

He was in pain. He was scared. He was alone. He was in Hell.

* * *

I am replying individually to all reviews, but I also appreciate the non reviewers. I see ya'll out there lurkin'...lol. Thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying. 


	9. No Room For Error

**_Highway to Hell_**

He gradually became aware of voices. Someone was shouting, and he could hear feet pounding on the hard wooden floor. Hands grabbed his arms, and pulled him to his feet. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't live. The thought of what had just happened was too much.

He glared through the dense fog that clouded his vision. The bed where Sam had lain was empty. The spot where Pastor Jim had last been standing was empty. Dean was empty.

He didn't know what was going on around him. Someone was shaking him by the shoulders, and he wished they would just stop. It hurt. Everything hurt. The pain was unbearable, he knew he didn't have it in him to go on. He just couldn't.

His life had been ripped away, and it was all his fault.

A voice penetrated the darkness, bringing him back to reality. It was somewhere he didn't want to go. Everything hurt that much more, as if he were under a magnifying glass. He fought it, tried his hardest to stay in the numbing cocoon he had built around himself. It was not to be had. He gradually made out the words being yelled at him, the hands under his arms, pulling him up.

"Dean, we have to go!"

"No…" was all he could say. He wouldn't leave Sam, he couldn't. The hands pulled him forward, causing him to stumble and almost fall. The hands were there again, pulling him back up, steadying him. The hands that were trying to make him leave. He fought against them, not wanting to leave the room.

"Sam is still here," he muttered, not sure if he had actually spoken the words, or if they were in his mind, torturing him.

"He isn't, but the demon could come back. We need to go!" Something deep inside of Dean snapped, and he lost it.

Anger boiled over, filling his heart with an acidic pain and filling his lungs with a burning gasp. He was going to kill the demon. He pushed everything aside and concentrated on that burning pain, it brought him fully back to the present. Pastor Jim was running ahead of him, full speed down a flight of stairs. They were in one of the back stair wells, not daring to take an elevator. Jim was relaying the story as they ran.

"Once you fell, she knocked me aside with a swoosh of her hand. Then, she left. She was saying something about being unstoppable, having never ending power, now possessing one of the greatest beings," he said between mouthfuls of air. "What is she talking about? All she did was take over Sam…" He immediately wished he could take the words back. As they reached the bottom floor, he turned to look at Dean.

He had a dark look in his eyes, and Pastor Jim could almost smell the anger radiating from the young hunter. He was immediately glad he was not on this man's bad side and he almost felt bad for the demon. Almost.

"We need to come up with a plan," Dean said quietly through clenched teeth. His mind was purely in hunting mode. Deep down he was grateful to his father, grateful to the man who had shown him how to hide his emotions. He would do anything to get Sam back, and he knew they would.

Jumping in the driver's seat of the Impala, he waited for Pastor Jim to get in the passenger seat. He almost wanted to tell the man to get in the back, that that was Sam's seat, but he caught himself. All he could think about was how this man had performed the exorcism that had sent Sam to Hell, but he pushed that aside also. Jim had been as clueless as he had about what was going on.

As Dean drove to the motel, he wondered where Sam was right now. Was he hurting? What had he seen in his last moments? The gray mist came back to Dean, and he suddenly remembered seeing it in the Trap right before the demon had taken over Sam's body. Had Sam seen him rush to the body on the bed? Had he seen his older brother abandon him? God Dean hoped not. The thought sickened him, and made him push on the gas pedal just a little harder.

Jim sat in the passenger side, stealing quick looks at the man next to him. A million prayers jumbled through his head, coming as fast as his panicked mind would allow. One for a safe journey to the motel as they were driving at a dangerous speed as it was. One for the safety of Sam, who he knew was in big trouble and probably in a great amount of pain. One for the soul next to him, who he knew was in the same place as Sam as far as Hell went.

The car roared through the parking lot, and barely stopped in front of the room. Dean almost snapped the keys as he yanked them from the ignition, and was soon running to the room. He wasn't sure how he was going to help his brother, he didn't even know where to begin, but he thought for now he'd take things one at a time.

Pastor Jim glanced at the large black truck parked next to the car, and for a moment he couldn't move. Then, as fast as his body would allow, he was out of the car and right behind Dean. This was not going to be pretty.

Dean threw the door open and stared in shock at the man standing before him.

"Hey son," the figure said quietly, standing from his seat on the bed.

"You son of a-" Dean yelled as he launched forward and threw his fist out, letting it connect with his father's face. John's head snapped sideways and he stumbled back, falling onto the bed. He lay in shock only for a moment before jumping back to his feet.

Pastor Jim jumped between the two men in that instant, trying to keep them from killing each other.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" John screamed, not even noticing the quiet rage in front of him.

"John, please, just-" before Jim could continue, he watched as Dean collapsed onto the bed behind him, his breath coming out in great gasps. John went to grab him, but Jim held him back.

"Go outside for a moment, I'll be right there." When John made no move to leave, Jim tried again. "Now."

John clenched his jaw and balled his fist, but turned to leave the room.

"Dean?" Jim asked, quietly walking up to his side. He had almost been relieved to see Dean's anger, and knew he would be able to work with him on getting Sam back. Now it looks as if they had taken four steps backwards.

"Dean?" Jim tried again when he received no answer. Dean just shook his head, and let his eyes close.

"I need a minute."

"All right, I'm going to go outside and have a talk with your father. Dean, we're going to make it through this. You need to understand that right now."

Once again Dean remained silent. Jim sighed in frustration and quietly turned to leave.

Stepping out onto the old cracked concrete in front of the motel room, Jim spotted John leaning on his truck, rubbing his jaw. A small amount of dried blood caked at the edge of his mouth, and he had a nice bruise beginning to form. As soon as he saw the Pastor step out of the room, he rushed him.

"What the hell was that? What's going on? Does this have something to do with that damned Circle of Solomon you asked about using?"

Jim remained silent, letting the questions roll off of him like beads of water.

Finally, when John had fallen silent, he recounted the past few hours of events.

"So I don't know the whole story, I just know this demon is now in Sam's body, and Sam is…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish.

"In Hell," John stated quietly.

"John, we don't know that."

"Give me a break Jim, we both know it. Now I'm going to go in there-"

"You'll do no such thing."

"Jim, that boy has to know he can't go around punching people. It's disrespectful and he knows better."

"John, you go in there, you may just lose both of your sons. Now listen to me, I need you to go out and track down Sam. LISTEN VERY CAREFULLY," he said, his tone low and threatening. "Do not make contact with him. Just find him. We need to do this carefully, or we could lose Sam forever."

"What do you expect me to do when I find him? I'm not just going to lay low-"

"Yes you will! By the time you find him, I will have a plan."

John was getting tired of getting interrupted, tired of getting pushed around already, and tired of the man in front of him taking charge when that's what he should be doing.

He made move to step past the elder man in front of him, but took a step back when Jim jumped in his way.

"John, there's a whole hell of a lot of things going on here that you have no clue about. Please, just go find the demon who has possession of Sam. I'm going to go talk to Dean, we're going to need him for this fight. I swear John, if you value the lives of your sons, you will listen to me on this one. You cannot help them right now, they need each other for that."

John looked directly into his friend's eyes, and didn't see a hint of sarcasm or laughter. All he saw was a stone cold truth, and it bathed him in ice.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "Why them Jim? Why them?" was all he could say as he turned to get into his truck.

Not knowing the answer, Jim watched with a heavy heart as the eldest Winchester drove away. He hoped John would remember what he had said, and not throw it all out the minute he saw his son. He turned back towards the open motel door and stepped inside. Dean lay where he had left him, staring at the ceiling. He barely moved, and didn't acknowledge the new presence in the room.

"Dean," Jim said softly. He had no clue how he was going to fix the wreck in front of him. Dean had been fighting, angry, mad. The moment he had laid eyes on his father, he spiraled out of control.

Dean just wanted the whole world to go away. The moment he had seen his father, burning putrid anger consumed his already frayed hold on reality, causing him to lash out. He hadn't realized what he had done until it was too late, until he had actually hit his father. But damn it had felt so good.

He was vaguely aware of Jim pushing his father out of the door, vaguely aware of the arguing that could be heard through the paper thin door. All he could feel was hurt.

He needed his brother, needed him worse than he thought he ever could. Sam leaving for college had left a small empty whole in his heart, one he felt every day. He never allowed that to be known to the rest of the world, that was not what Dean Winchester was all about. But it was different then, Sam had left by choice.

He had been out in the world, living, having fun, doing what geek boys do.

This time was different. Sam had been torn from this world, torn out of Dean's grasp, and now they would never get him back.

Jim was back, standing over him, saying his name. He wished the world would just go away. He wanted to lay in torment, consumed with the grief that was slowly killing him inside. He wanted to be with Sam. In Hell if he had to.

Jim was still saying his name, this time he was sitting beside him. He just wished the world would go away.

"Dean, we need you. If we're going to save Sam, you've got to help. So I want you to stop sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Sam isn't lost to us yet. But every moment you lay there, the chance of bringing him back slims!"

The anger-laced words penetrated his fog, driving it away. The anger was back.

Here he was, the big brother, and he was wallowing in self pity and guilt while his brother was being tortured God knows where.

He hated himself for being weak, hated himself for leaving Sam. He hated himself.

Jim smiled as he saw the light spark back into Dean's eyes. He hadn't wanted to resort to anger, to accusations; God knows what it was doing Dean in the long run. But they needed the hunter now and that was the only way he could think of to grab his attention.

"Have any plans?" Dean asked as he sat up.

Jim didn't want to give Dean false hope, but he didn't want to crush him either. The truth was, Jim didn't have any plans. This was a new one.

"Well, there's still got to be hope, right?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, think, what happens during an exorcism?"

"You send an evil son of a bitch to hell."

"Right. Is Sam evil?"

Dean's head perked up. "No…"

"Exactly. So we had to have sent him somewhere. And just like Constance, we probably didn't truly kill him."

"So you think we can get him back."

"Exactly. I could just take the spell, alter it a bit, and bring him back."

"So what happens when we bring him back? He'll be a spirit again?"

"Well, if my theory is correct and this all works out the way I think it will, I think we need his body. We'll need the demon to send back."

"You sound as if you're making this up as you go along."

"I kind of am," the older man admitted, laughing softly. He was surprised when Dean returned the small laugh.

"I can't tell you what it means to me that you're doing this for me, for us, for Sam."

Jim knew gratitude didn't come easy from Dean. The boy was used to taking care of things on his own, not needing anyone's help, especially when it came to Sam. The small statement reminded Jim of the seriousness of the situation. "Think nothing of it. You boys are family."

Dean smiled again.

-SN-

He wanted to cry. Everything hurt so badly. He was so cold. He was so scared.

He wanted so badly to cry, to lash out, to do something. Nothing would come out. He couldn't make a sound. He tried to huddle inside himself even more. He didn't know why he was there. He didn't know how he'd gotten there.

_Dean had run away from him…Dean had left him…_

He couldn't stop the play of images in front of him. He knew Dean hadn't left him.

He knew Dean wouldn't. Something else had happened. It had to have. But the sight of Dean running away from him when he'd be thrown into that circle haunted his thoughts.

He tried to reason with himself, tried to get a bearing on where he was, but he couldn't seem to think past the pain. He no longer felt physical pain. All the hurt consuming him was coming from his own soul, his heart; everything was being torn in two.

He wanted to die.

-SN-

_Tick tock tick tock tick tock…_

Dean thought he was going to go crazy. The clock on the wall ticked away mercilessly, reminding Dean that they were running out of time. He tried to keep his mind off Sam, tried to not think about what he must be going through. He tried to ignore the heavy burden of guilt that was upon him, making it hard to breathe. He tried so hard to quell the pain that was consuming him, ripping at his heart, wanting to shred the vital organ until he was dead.

Jim sat at the opposite side of the table from him, engrossed in one of his books. His fingers danced across the pages as he searched the endless paragraphs of Latin, the endless pages of incantations, while the endless ticks droned on behind him.

Dean lifted his heel off the floor and began to shake his leg so his heel barely tapped the floor in a frantic pace. He didn't realize he was even doing it until Pastor Jim glared at him from above the glasses perched on the end of his nose.

The shaking immediately stopped, stilling the table. Sitting back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and sighed in annoyance. Another glare.

"I'm sorry, it's just, I can't take all of this sitting around!" Dean said, jumping to his feet. He began to pace the room, feeling like a caged animal. "I should be out here, helping to look for Sam."

Before Jim could reply Dean's phone rang. "Dad?"

"Yeah, Dean, Pastor Jim there?"

"Why?"

"I need to talk to him."

"You can talk to me."

"Damnit Dean, I need to talk to Jim."

"No."

"Don't make me hang up."

Suddenly afraid his father would, he thrust the phone at Jim with a scowl. Jim's eyes widened in surprise as he accepted the phone.

"John?"

"Yeah, I found Sam."

He sighed in relief. "Where?"

"He's at a local bar about 20 minutes from the motel."

"We need to-"

"He's killed someone Jim."

"John, you need to know that's not Sam."

"He's killed someone."

"John, stay with me. That's not Sam, that's a demon. I need you to wait until Dean and I get there, then we'll make plans."

"I'm headed your way."

"Wait, what?"

"I've got the demon and I'm headed back."

The phone went dead before Jim could reply.

"Get ready," Jim said, his eyes meeting with Dean's. "They're coming."

Dean's eyes widened, but he said nothing as he set to work. He looked at Pastor Jim with confusion as he was handed a sharpie and a picture of a Circle of Solomon.

"I don't think this," he said, gesturing to the sharpie, "is going to work on carpet."

"You can draw it on the ceiling," Jim replied, not taking his eyes from the book he had picked up.

Dean glanced up at the ceiling, then looked around the room for a chair. Nabbing the one he had been perched on moments ago, he climbed up and began to mark the ceiling. "It'll work up here?"

"Yep."

Dean continued to trace the pattern on the spackled ceiling as best he could. When he finished, he stepped down from the chair and looked up to inspect his work.

They heard the roar of a truck outside, and met each other's gazes nervously.

Show time.

"Dean, I want you to prepare yourself. This demon will say anything to save her hide, and she's going to target you. No matter what she says, no matter how mad she makes you, you just remember two simple things."

"What's that?"

"Sam's not in there. He's not trapped within his body, so what we're going to do is not, and I repeat not, going to hurt him. Second, we're doing this so we can get him back. Do you think you can make it through this?"

Dean clenched his teeth together as he thought about it. His jaw began to ache and he released the tension, letting a small sigh out. "I'll do anything to have Sam back."

Jim grabbed the chair Dean had been using and placed it in the middle of the room. Going over to the bed, he scooped up the rope from where it lay discarded on the carpet.

"I could use some help out here," came John's voice through the door. Steeling himself for what he was about to see, Dean went out into the parking lot. There, in the passenger side of his father's truck, sat an unconscious Sam, his forehead resting against the window. A small rivulet of blood laid a dark red trail from his temple, down his cheek, and underneath his jaw where it disappeared.

Dean rushed to his brother's side, catching himself before he jerked the door open. Jim's words floated in his head, giving him strength. _Sam's not in there_.

"Alright son," John said, not bothering to look at his oldest son. "I'll grab his arms, you grab his feet."

The two Winchesters stumbled under the dead weight of the youngest, but they managed to get him in the chair and tied down.

Dean stepped back and stared intently at his brother's head…it was just hanging…

"Dean?" Pastor Jim stepped up next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm ok. Let's do this."

"We're going to talk later about your new attitude Dean," John said, still angry about the punch earlier.

"Oh, what attitude? Or are you just mad that for once I didn't follow your orders?"

"Guys, enough, she's waking up."

Both Winchesters turned to see Sam's head rolling back and forth weakly on his shoulders. His head snapped up suddenly, black eyes searching the room.

"Oh crap," she said, her voice low and scratchy. It was neither Sam's nor Constance's voice.

"Constance?" Jim questioned.

"No, not quite," it screetched. "Constance was just the name for my host's body. You may call me Tui."

"What kind of name is that?" Dean taunted. "I don't think your parents liked you very much."

The thing hissed at him, twisting Sam's lips in a cruel smirk.

"Dean, quit playing and get over here." Dean turned at Jim's voice and walked over to join the two older men. "This is how it's going to work. I'm going to be standing on the south side of the demon, John on the north. John, you'll be reading this incantation," he continued, handing John a book, "which will call Sam's soul back. I'll be standing at the south end reading this, and exorcising the demon. Dean, you'll be ready with these," he finished, handing Dean a bottle of holy water and a shot gun filled with rock salt.

"Rock salt?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, the demon will soon be in spirit form…"

"So you think it'll work?"

"I told you I was making this up as we go along."

"Oh that's just beautiful," the demon grinned. "A family working together to save their precious Sammy. Brings tears to my eyes."

"Don't call him that," Dean said quietly. The demon's eyes snapped over, focusing on him.

"What's the matter Dean? Can't handle a little truth? Well, how about this?"

Dean gasped as his mind, body, and spirit was suddenly consumed with pain. Loneliness, abandonment, depression, anger, sadness…it all hit him at once. It was suffocating, the intense waves of pain that rolled over him like a merciless ocean. He gasped for air as large black spots swam in his vision.

"Son of a-" John cussed as he grabbed the vial of holy water from Dean's limp grasp and began to spray the demon with it. Smoke rose as the water touched Sam's arm and shoulder, and the demon hissed once again. The pain ceased instantly, and Dean sighed in relief.

Panting, the demon looked at Dean once again. "And you think your brother's weak. You couldn't handle five minutes of that…yet your brother has been feeling that the past what? Four hours?"

The revelation floored Dean. Was that what that was?

"Yes Dean," the demon answered, "all I did was link you with your brother."

"Enough," John growled, shoving the holy water back into Dean's hands. "We finish this now."

The two men began to read at once, their voices mingling and the incantations strangely began to mix together, almost harmonizing. Dean stood mesmerized as the Latin flowed, wrapping the room in a warm cocoon. All he wanted to do was collapse. Sam was...he felt...he couldn't...

Sam's chest began to convulse and the demon screamed. The chair creaked and groaned, almost sounding as if it were coming apart. The demon jerked, only being held up by the ropes securing it to the chair.

A black mist suddenly enveloped his brother's body, obscuring it from view. Dean craned his neck and fought to see within, but it was impossible. The sounds coming from the mist were not even human. But whatever was causing the sounds was in a whole helluva lot of pain, making Dean smirk. It died from his lips as soon as he heard Sam's voice added to the chaotic mist.

Within moments, the chanting stopped, the cocoon was gone, and the mist had vanished. Sam sat in the middle of the silent room, his head bowed. A thin column of blood escaped from his mouth, leaving a bloody pool in his lap.

"Sam?" Dean whispered as he took a tentative step forward.

"Dean, don't," John warned.

Sam gasped, and began to cough, creating a deep rattling in his chest. His head jerked up, and he looked around the room with unfocused eyes. "Dean?" The voice was so small, filled with so much pain.

"I'm comin' man," Dean cried out as he lurched towards his brother. Sam's head dropped again and his body began to shudder. Alarm growing at an increasing rate, Dean worked fast at the ropes bounding Sam to the chair. "Dad, help me!"

Wasting no time, John leapt into action and began to work on Sam's other side. Soon both men had lowered the bloody and bruised body to the ground. Sam's hand was fisted in Dean's shirt, his eyes pleading with him. "Don't…don't…oh God…don't leave me…"

"I'm not Sammy, I'm not."

"It…hurts-" Sam was cut off as another round of coughs shook his body.

"We have to get him to the hospital," Dean stated, glancing at the other two men, daring them to protest.

"Dean, we-Sam!" John yelled as Sam began to cough more, bloody drops spewing from his lips and blanketing his face and neck. His eyes widened and his body stiffened.

"We're going to the hospital, now."

* * *

Ok, and onto the next one. I also wrote this before BUABS, but I think I like how they did Sam's possession more than I did. ;) 


	10. So Wrong, So Fast

_**Back From The Brink**_

"We were able to stop the bleeding in time, but we had to give him four transfusions. This was a very serious injury that could have killed him, but you all got him here in time."

"Can we see him?" Dean asked, anxious. He'd been sitting in that waiting room for over four hours after they'd carted Sam off to God knows where. The doctor in front of him pushed his glasses back onto his nose and hugged Sam's chart closer to him. The doctor seemed almost scared.

And he was kind of scared to be truthful. He'd seen Dean pacing that room like a caged tiger, had seen the young man's face as they'd brought the boy in, watched as Dean's face had filled with rage when they had taken his brother away and had not allowed him to follow, and he knew the man in front of him was capable of removing anything that stepped between him and his family, and that was just from a short exposure. And right now the doctor was that thing standing between him and the youngest member of the family. He almost wished he hadn't traded shifts with Dr. Stevens.

"I'm sorry, but he's being prepped for the post-surgery tests. He had massive trauma to some very vital organs, and we were very lucky to be able to repair them. Nothing had to be removed, he was very lucky."

"I don't consider a near death experience very lucky doc," Dean said, his tone serious.

"Alright Dean, that's enough, why don't you go sit," John said as he returned balancing three cups of coffee.

"I…"

"Now."

Dean's jaw clenched but he didn't say anything. Taking one of the cups, he settled himself on one of the couches.

"How is he?" John asked after setting the other two cups on the small table.

"With some rest and careful observation, I believe he'll make a full recovery."

"When can we see him?"

"He should be done in about an hour. I will come and get you myself when he is ready."

"Thanks."

John turned and faced his other son. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, and then pulled up a small chair so he could face the couch.

"Dad, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I...well...when I punched you..."

"Oh son," John chuckled. "While I must admit it surprised the hell out of me, I think I'll be ok."

"I don't even know why I did it."

"I'll bet I can guess," Jim said, sitting down next to Dean. "Grief. Shock. Anger. You had one heck of a cocktail of nasty emotions Dean, it can get to the best of us and make us lash out."

"Yeah? I'll bet you've never decked your father."

"No, but I've decked _yours_."

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. John let out a small laugh. Even Pastor Jim smiled, a twinkle in his eyes.

Dean frowned again. "What I felt…it doesn't even come close to the hell Sammy was feeling."

"What do you mean?" John asked, leaning forward.

"The demon, she showed me what he was feeling. He was being straight up tortured. I don't think we're going to be getting the same Sam back."

"Demon's lie, you know that," John said, grabbing Dean's arm and giving it a small reassuring squeeze before letting go.

"No, I felt him. I felt Sam. In all that chaos, Sam was there. The demon couldn't fake that. I…I don't think Sam's going to be ok."

All three men fell silent at the statement. They all hoped to God it wasn't true.

It was not just the physical injuries Dean was worried about. The three men had speculated that the demon had done some major damage to Sam's body as she exited, probably out of desperation to be alive, clinging to her last means of survival. She had torn at his insides, almost killing him. Dean was scared.

-SN-

It was so cold. It surrounded him, stealing heat from his body, leaving him empty. He was alone, he knew that.

He wondered where he was. He had been in that Hell. He had never felt such raw and powerful emotions. They had torn through him mercilessly, not leaving a shred of peace or hope behind. He knew he'd never see his family again, he just accepted it. He was so tired of fighting.

But he was somewhere new. He could feel something hard beneath him. He heard the sound of a constant beeping off to his side. A small burning itch on the back of his hand caught his attention. He moved his hand, and was relieved when he felt the burning itch intensify. He was sure that meant he was alive again.

A small click sounded to his left. He heard soft footsteps pad across the room.

The smell of old leather drifted towards him, comforting him. He knew that smell.

A hand grabbed his arm, softly, and shook it.

He peeked his eyes open, and waited for his vision to focus.

"Dean."

Dean smiled when he heard Sam say his name. "How ya doin' Sam?" He didn't care if he got caught; sneaking in there had been worth it to see Sam awake.

"I feel like crap."

"Having a demon tear you apart from the inside can have that affect on you."  
Sam's eyes widened and Dean immediately regretted letting that slip. "Sorry Sammy."

"Is that what happened?"

"How much do you remember?"

"I remember the ritual…then…" Sam lowered his gaze, tearing it away from Dean's. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"What do you mean 'am I sure'?"

"I know what happened to you."

Sam stayed silent. What could he say to Dean? How could he even come close to describing the pain and torment he'd felt in that God awful place?

"Sam, talk to me."

"I can't."

"Sammy, you have to-"

"I SAID I CAN'T DAMNIT!!" Sam snapped, his eyes filling with anger.

Dean took a step back, shock etched in his face. He could only stare in amazement at his fuming brother.

"Please, just leave," Sam said quietly as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow. Why was he so angry? He really didn't want Dean to leave, for him to be alone. But right now Dean's presence was suffocating...

"Alright, you want to be alone? Fine," Dean replied quietly. He immediately regretted his choice of words, the look that now settled on his brother's face was killing him. Shaking his head before he could regret saying anything else, he turned and left.

He had felt the torment Sam had been subject to. He didn't even know how Sam was alive. Any lesser being would have given up after five minutes in that place, including himself.

He also knew, deep down, Sam would never be okay. The job had scarred him, and Dean didn't know how to help him. For once, Dean couldn't protect him. How was he supposed to save his brother from himself?

"Dean, there you are. Doc said we could go see Sam now," John said, walking up to him.

"I'll be outside," Dean said, not even looking at his father.

"Dean, did you hear what I just said? Let's go see your brother."

"I'll be outside," he repeated, heading out the double doors.

John stared after his son in confusion. Shaking his head, he decided one son at a time.

"I'll go talk with Dean," Pastor Jim offered. John nodded, and the men split up.

"Sam?" John said, pulling up a chair next to Sam's bed. Sam didn't move, didn't open his eyes. "Son, come on, time to wake up now."

The sight of Sam laying in that bed killed him. Dean's words echoed in his head…_I don't think Sam's going to be ok_…

John shook his head in denial. No, Sam was strong, both of his sons were. He'd be ok.

"Dean?"

"I don't want to talk Jim, I just wanna be alone."

"Well that's too bad," Jim replied, winking. He sighed when he got no reaction out of Dean. "Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Well, I think you should."

"Well, Jim, no offense, but I'm not a big fan of the touchy feely stuff."

"This doesn't have to be touchy feely. You're a little too full of yourself, you know that?"

Dean met the older man's eyes, raising his eyebrow.

"Maybe I came out here to find out about Sam. Did you think about that?"

"Why would you talk to me to find out about Sam?"

"I know you went to see him. Judging by your current attitude, it didn't go well. Dean, tell me what happened. Maybe I can help him."

"He's just so angry. I've never seen him like that. Not a whole lot scares me, you know? But I'm honestly scared for him." The words poured out of Dean before he could stop them. His confession had stunned even himself. Is that how he really felt? He watched the range of emotions that passed over Jim's face, and surmised that he was also fearful for the youngest hunter.

Dean continued, not bothering to stop the next flow of words, "I mean, I don't know how to help him. How am I supposed to save him from himself? And I've never been any good with emotions…how am I supposed to help him?" He honestly wanted an answer from the older man.

"You can be what you've always been to Sam. A big brother."

"That doesn't really help."

"You'll understand what I mean. Just continue to be the support that Sam needs."

"That still doesn't really help."

Jim chuckled. "It will."

John rubbed his tired eyes, frustrated. Sam had woken, but hadn't said a word. He just lay there, looking out of the window, silent.

"Sam, look at me."

Nothing.

"Sam, damnit, look at me!" He couldn't help the frustration that added anger to his words. Sam was hurting, it was obvious, and John didn't know how to make the hurt go away. He couldn't kill it, he couldn't exorcize it, all he could do was sit there and stare at his broken son.

A thought struck him: _why did he think his son was broken_? Of all the words he could use to describe Sam, broken was the term that came to mind.

"Dad." The single word choked out of Sam. "Dad, I don't want to hurt anymore."

"Where does it hurt?" Alarm grew, sending panic through his system.

"Everywhere," his son whispered before closing his eyes once more.

"No, no, this is not going to happen," John said with a new sense of determination. He'd be damned if a demon took another Winchester.

Jim and Dean walked carefully into Sam's room, and were surprised to find it empty. John was no where to be found.

"Sam?" Jim said carefully, walking slowly up to the bed. Sam continued to stare out the window, not even acknowledging his visitors. Dean stood near the door, almost afraid of stepping any closer to his brother.

"Sam, talk to me," Jim said, pulling up a chair and settling himself in. Sam's head still faced the window, his expression still blank.

"Do you know what it feels like?" Sam said, startling both his visitors.

"What does what feel like?" Jim asked.

"Hell."

"No."

"Then how are you going to help me?" Sam's blank gaze came to rest on the pastor. "I could open my heart and soul to you, tell you all about the badness, and how are you going to make it go away?"

Jim was speechless. Sam's words sounded cold, calculated.

"I will never be able to shake that feeling," he continued. "I'll always remember how it felt. I'll always remember who sent me there." Sam's eyes shifted to Dean, accusation pouring from them.

Dean's lips trembled as he stared at his little brother. Without a word he turned and left, not able to bear what he had seen in Sam's eyes.

"Sam, he didn't send you there, I did," Jim said, his anger growing. He tried to keep it at bay. Sam had been through a lot, and it was going to take time. Time was going to take patience. Patience was not one of the stronger Winchester traits.

"Well he sure didn't do anything to stop it, did he?" Sam turned and faced the window again.

Putting his face in his hands, Jim listened as Sam's breathing evened out. He was asleep. Sam needed help, he needed his family. The one of the two people he could count on also needed help after what had just happened, and the other was no where to be found. So Jim did the only thing he could think of, he prayed.

Sam didn't know why he was so angry. He hurt. Everything hurt. The physical pain he could endure. He had endured much of it throughout his short life. It was the emotional that he could not. Every fiber of his being was overwrought with pain. One emotion rose above the rest, consuming him until he thought he was going to burn up from its intensity. Anger. Sheer, unabashed, unapologetic, unleashed anger.

It scared him, the fact that it could take over him and make him say those things to his family. His life. He needed to be alone now, he couldn't take the concern he saw on Jim's face. Turning his head back towards the window, he slowly let his breath even out, as if in sleep. He heard Pastor Jim murmuring quietly. He was praying.

Sam wanted to tell him it would do no good. Surely there was no Lord up there, only the hell below them. The hell that had stolen his life, his love of his family, any positive emotions he once felt were lost in the inner turmoil that now consumed him.

As soon as Pastor Jim had finished his prayer, he got up and slowly left the room. Sam raised his head, letting out a small gasp as the movement caused pain to ripple through his chest. Ignoring it, he reached up and flipped off the machine.

He knew if he removed the little paddles, they would begin to shriek at the loss of a heartbeat. After the machine powered down, he removed the little sensors. Next, he reached down and removed the IV. Fluid began to drip, soaking the sheets. Uncaring, he threw it to the floor where it continued to create a puddle.  
He carefully lowered himself to the floor once he was free of the machines. His head swam as he stood, threatening to send him crashing back down to the floor.

He pressed his hands into the bed, willing the world to righten itself. When it did, he took a shaky step towards the cabinet in the corner. He sighed with relief as he reached it, and found a pair of his clean clothes inside. His laptop was even perched in the corner.

Knowing he didn't have much time, he dressed as quickly as the pain would allow. Grabbing the strap to the laptop, he hoisted it over his shoulders, wincing as the physical pain tore through his chest. He then made his way to a cabinet on the other side of the room. Grabbing as much gauze, sterile wipes, and antibiotic ointment as he thought he'd need to care for his stitches, he shoved the supplies into the pocket of his laptop case. The pain once again made itself known as he adjusted the strap so it rested higher on his shoulder.

Ignoring it, he walked carefully to the door and listened for a presence outside. He heard nothing. He sighed again as he popped his head out into the hallway, and found it empty. He stepped out into the deserted hallway and made his way to the elevators.

He had just stepped inside and pressed the bottom floor as Dean rounded he corner.

Dean was furious. How dare Sam? After all they'd been through, after all of the moments he wanted to have, how dare Sam shut him out? He was going to fight for his brother whether his brother wanted it or not. Sam was not just going to become bitter and allow the anger to overcome him. Dean was going to help him through it.

Pastor Jim had helped him to see that anger made Sam say what he had said. He knew that Sam wouldn't blame him for sending him, that was not the way he was, even if it had been Dean's fault.

Dean was going to step up and be the bigger brother. He was going to be the support Sam needed. He was going to be that kick in the ass his brother would need to step back into reality.

As he rounded the corner, he heard the elevator close, but paid no attention. His gaze was fixed on Sam's door, nothing was going to distract him. He had the whole conversation played out in his head, and he didn't want to forget any of it.

All of it blanked in his mind as he stared in shock at the empty room. The pads that had previously been monitoring his brother's heart lay scattered on the bed. The IV needle lay on the floor in a large puddle. The cabinets that had housed Sam's clothes were open and empty.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, running to the window. He got there in just enough time to watch in a horrid fascination as the Impala race out of the parking lot. He jammed his hand in his pocket and pulled the keys out. "Son of a bitch!" he repeated. He stormed out of the abandoned hospital room, now on a search for his father.

* * *

Ok, just a few more. Thanks for following. :) 


	11. Following The Confused

_**A Lonely Path Leads You Home**_

Sam drove without really knowing where he was going. He just couldn't face those concerned looks anymore. He wanted so badly for everything to be alright. He wished with all he had that he could accept the concern, that he could feel it. All he felt was pity instead. He knew there was no way his family could ever pity him, they would be concerned, and they would only try to fix things. He wanted so badly to feel any emotion besides anger and hate.

A red stop light was all that stood between him and motion. And he needed motion. He couldn't stand the feeling of being still, as he had been in that place. Still led to feeling, and he didn't want to feel.

He tried to think back to happier times. The day he'd met Jessica, the day they'd moved in together, the day he'd decided she was the one. He waited for the familiar love and sadness to come, it was what he always felt whenever he thought of her. All that came instead was a burning hate towards her, how dare she leave him?

He stopped the thought before it could build. He needed a distraction. The light was never going to turn he decided.

He stared longingly at the box full of tapes in the back seat. He couldn't bring himself to listen to any of them. It would remind him of happier times, times when it was just him, Dean, and Blue Oyster Cult or whatever band his brother had wanted to listen to at the time. Sam didn't want to feel anger when thinking about those times, so he chose not to think about them.

The light finally turned green, and Sam gunned it. The Impala growled in protest as it lurched forward and its speed increased. Sam pushed the pedal harder, and the car quickly obeyed.

He didn't know where he was going, he just needed to go.

-SN-

"Son of a bitch," was all Dean could say as he searched the hospital. Sam had taken off in his only transportation, his baby nonetheless, and John was MIA as was his truck.

"Dean? What is it?" Jim asked, panic growing at the sight of Dean.

"Sam took off in the Impala, and Dad's nowhere to be found," he replied, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Wait, Sam took off?!"

"Was there something about that you didn't get?" Dean snapped. "Sorry, it's just, now we have no way of chasing after him and Dad's gone again. I don't even have the slightest clue as to where Sam could be going."

"Dean, just calm down, ok? We'll think of something, but first, I need you to calm down, get your head in the game. Got it?"

Dean nodded and looked at Jim, his eyes setting in determination. "Any ideas?"

"Did you call your dad?"

"Yep, voicemail."

"Figures. Ok, we need a vehicle."

"Any ideas?" Dean repeated.

"Wow, you're one for planning aren't you? Ok, all we need to do is rent one."

Dean pulled the collection of cards from his back pocket. "How about Adrien Padalki, he's buyin'."

Jim shook his head. "I cannot condone that."

Dean's face screwed in disbelief. Jim busted out laughing, letting out a shaky "got ya" before being consumed with laughter again. Dean smiled slightly. It really wasn't that funny of a joke, but he couldn't help but smile as the old man dissolved into near-tears in front of him.

"Alright Adrien, let's go get a car."

"Excuse me, are you Sam's brother?" an officer asked, almost appearing out of nowhere.

Dean narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Yeah," he stated carefully.

"We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

"What's this about? I don't have time-"

"Where was your brother about five hours ago?"

"He was with me, what's this about?"

"We have a witness description matching your brother's. She states she saw him leave the alley behind the Hellhole a few minutes before the body of Dedrick Clayton was found."

His jaw fell open before he could catch it. "That's impossible, Sam's been with me the whole night."

"Do you mind if we have a talk with your brother?"

Before Dean could respond, Jim stepped in front of him. "That won't be possible. The boys have been with me all day, and now that poor boy is fighting for his life. You will do no such thing as aggravate his condition. I swear to you it was not Sam at that bar."

The officer nodded at the old pastor, then at Dean, and closed his notebook. "May I ask how he was injured?"

"He was attacked," Dean said quietly. "So maybe instead of hoping he was your suspect, you could go out there and look for the one that attacked him."

The officer nodded sympathetically. "Once again I apologize. Best of luck to you both."

"That was weird," Jim said after the officer was out of earshot.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when you told him Sam was attacked, he didn't even act interested. He should have been pumping you for information, but he wasn't."

"Huh," was all Dean could say. He couldn't focus on anything else besides finding his brother.

The ground was cold beneath him, but he didn't seem to notice. He'd driven for about an hour and a half before he finally had to stop. The painkillers were wearing off, and every move he made sent bolts of pain through hit chest and head, making him dizzy. He didn't want to wreck the Impala; it was the only home he truly knew. So he'd parked it at a rest stop and decided to walk.

It was snowing. Not heavy, just light enough to melt as it touched the ground.

_Dean walked in, little snowflakes clinging to his hair…_

Sam shook his head to clear the memory. An all too familiar pain accompanied the shake, but he ignored it. He ignored the pain that tore at his heart as well, the pain that made him want to cry, to lash out. He ignored the snow that was falling faster, soaking his thin jacket and making him shiver.

He didn't even know where he was. Road signs had flown past him; he hadn't read any of them. Not that it mattered. He didn't even know where he was supposed to go, he had no home, not even any friends. He'd left all of his credit cards at the motel he'd been sharing with Dean, so he had no money.

Now he was seated on the side of the road, hardly noticing the cars that flew past him. Every once in a while a semi would drive by, creating a small gust of wind to push up against him, but those also went unnoticed.

A small black Oldsmobile Alero pulled up.

"Sam?!" a voice asked. He turned with blank eyes to face the new comer. "Oh God, Sam, what the hell are you doing out here? Where's Dean?!"

Jessica ran to her back seat to find her blanket. "Sam, come on, get in."

Sam numbly followed her instructions, and sat in the passenger seat after she had wrapped the blanket around him. The blanket with the heat of the car failed to warm him. He continued to shiver.

"Sam, where's Dean?"

"I don't know."

"Are you ok? What happened?"

"I don't know."

Jessica sat for a moment, her hands tapping out an unspecific rhythm on the steering wheel as she considered her options.

Here was the man who had saved her home town from an angry vengeful ghost and two psychotic brothers, sitting by himself on the highway. He looked terrified, alone, with no spark she had seen before.

"Did you two get separated? Sam, what's going on?" Sam stayed silent, and dread began to grow in the pit of her stomach. Something bad had happened. "It's ok Sam, we're going to go back to my friend Justin's place, and figure out what's going on, ok?" Still no answer.

"Here we go. We're just going to get settled in here, and then I'll call your brother, ok?" Jessica said as she helped Sam onto the couch and tried to help him remove his jacket. He gasped, his body stiffened. "Sam? What is it?"

Silence.

"Alright, we have to get these clothes off if we want to get you warm." Jessica blushed. Her embarrassment soon turned to shock as she carefully lifted his soggy shirt over his head. He had gasped again, the pain in his eyes immeasurable. She stared that the bandages that covered his chest. Something horrifying had happened. She also noticed a hospital bracelet that surrounded his wrist. It dawned on her that he was probably supposed to still be there.

She grunted as she tugged his shoes off. Pink once again adorned her face as she began to tug at his jeans. Quickly she covered him in blankets.

"Alright Sam, I'm going to try to go find some clothes, ok? Then I'll call Dean." She was stopped by a hand that grasped at her wrist. She gasped and turned to find Sam's hand grabbing her.

"Don't call Dean."

"Why not?"

"Please, Jessica," the pleading in his voice nearly knocked her over.

"Ok, ok, for now I won't. Will you tell me what happened?"

Silence.

"Sam, if you don't, I don't know how to help you. And I think you need help."

"I…I can't talk about it," he replied. His voice cracked and he lowered his head as tears threatened to spill.

"Ok, I'll tell you what. How about you just rest? I'll go find some clothes, throw yours in the dryer, and you relax. We'll need to change those bandages too, they're pretty wet."

"In my laptop case." Jessica walked over to his case and opened the pocket. Sure enough a mini pharmacy lay inside. Shaking her head, she wondered what the hell had happened.

-SN-

"Oh, my baby, there you are," Dean said as he patted the hood of the Impala. There was no sign of Sam, and that worried him. Jim came from the restrooms, shaking his head sadly. There was no sign of struggle, nothing was out of place, all was calm. Sam had left on foot.

Looking out into the pitch black night, the snow that glittered in the passing lights as it softly fell, Dean felt panic and fear for his little brother clawing at his gut. It was cold out, and Sam was injured. He'd also left on foot. In his state of mind, there was no telling where he'd go.

"We've tracked him this far, we can keep going," Jim said, eager to get back on the road.

"It's a miracle we even found this," Dean stated, gesturing at the abandoned vehicle. He slammed his fist down on the hood of the car, not actually caring if it caused any damage.

_Damnit Sammy, where'd you go?_

After fighting to help Sam into the dry warm sweats and tee shirt, Jessica sat with him until he fell asleep. Tip toeing from him, she stepped out onto the porch. Settling herself onto one of the cold concrete steps, she pulled out her cell phone. She found the number she was looking for, and with a shaky sigh, she pressed 'Talk'.

"Hello?" the confused voice said on the other end after a couple of rings.

"Dean?" she whispered.

"Jessica? Is that you? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine. What about you?"

"Look Jessica, I don't have a whole lot of time to chit chat right now. And why are you whispering?"

"Oh, I think you have time to chat. Dean, I'm with Sam."

"You're what?!"

"Yeah, Dean, what happened?"

"Where are you? How the hell did he manage to get all the way up to Montana?!"

"We're not in Montana. Look, I promised him I wouldn't tell you. I actually found him wondering around, and I picked him up. He's safe, don't worry."

"You had better tell me-"

"Sorry Dean, I can't do that yet, I promised him I wouldn't even call you. Judging by the state Sam's in, that might just drive him further away."

"I swear-"

"Dean, don't you swear at me. Look, he's safe, I've got him. Give me some time with him, to talk to him, then I'll call you back. When he's ready. I just wanted to let you know he was ok." She heard Sam stirring inside.

"Jessica, I-"

"Look Dean, I gotta go. Please don't worry. I'll call you soon." She almost dropped the phone when Sam cried out, his voice full of fear and panic. She vaguely heard Dean calling her name as she snapped the phone closed and rushed inside.

Sam lay on the couch, his arms crossed feebly in front of his chest as he rolled in his sleep. The couch was soaked beneath him, sweat pouring from every inch of his skin. She carefully laid her hand on his forehead, and was alarmed at how warm he was.

"Sam? Sam!" she shook him gently. His eyes darted open, and his gaze immediately settled on her face.

"Jessica?"

"Yeah, Sam, it's me. Are you ok?" He grunted as he raised himself to a sitting position.

"I'm fine. You call Dean?"

"Please, you think I would? You asked me not to."

Sam threw a look of disbelief at her, and she smiled.

"Ok, yeah, I just didn't tell him where we were."

"Thanks."

"Sam, I don't understand. What's going on?"

"I just need to sort through some stuff. So thanks for drying my clothes. I'll leave as soon as I've changed."

"Sam Winchester, you'll do no such thing." Sam's eyes widened as he studied the sixteen year old. "If you leave, I'll call your brother right back. You don't have to tell me what's going on, but you will at least stay here until the storm passes and the sun rises, got it?"

Sam nodded weakly. He was glad she had objected to him leaving, the thought of walking alone in the snow had actually terrified him.

To bring the attention off of himself, he asked, "So what are you doing down here?"

"My brother goes to CU, and I'm down visiting. This is our friend Justin's house. My brother and Justin are out on the town right now, and I just came back from a basketball game. I couldn't believe it when I saw you on the side of the road. I couldn't believe it. Sam, please, talk to me. This whole thing is scaring me."

Sam stared down at a small stain on the carpet, debating on whether or not to tell her.

He started slow, started with how they come across this job. He poked and prodded at his memory, leaving certain pieces out. Her eyes widened and she nodded, but not once did she call his bluff or question him on something. After he finished his watered-down version of the past couple of days, they sat in silence for a few moments.

"So what are you going to do now?" Jessica asked.

"I don't know," Sam replied, lowering his head. Retelling that story had brought back some painful memories, ones he'd rather not relive. Yet he knew he'd be reliving them until he died.

"Sam, you need your family right now. You should let Dean come."

"No, no," Sam said, shaking his head. "I can't."

"Sam, you should have heard the panic in his voice. He's worried sick about you."

"I said some awful things to him."

"I don't think he cares about that right now."

"I can't face him, not yet."

"You know what? I think your lives are full of more drama than a group off teenage girls could ever create."

"Um, last I checked, you're a teenage girl."

"I'm no normal teenager," Jessica replied, her nose pointed up towards the ceiling. Sam smiled slightly before his face once again fell. "Oh Sam."

"I'll be fine. I just need time to sort through some stuff."

"Well, I'm on winter vacation, and even after I leave, you're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

"Thanks Jessica."

"I owe you guys. Trust me, this pales in comparison to what you guys did."

-SN-

Dean paced, his still-open cell phone clutched in his fist. With a lot more anger than he probably should have exerted on the poor defenseless little device he slammed it shut and almost threw it. He wondered what Jessica had meant by Sam being driven further away. Was Sam really that angry with him? He couldn't blame him, after all that had happened.

"Let's continue looking," Jim said, coming from behind to stand next to him. They had to pull off at a gas station, Sam had left the tank almost empty.

Dean nodded, "Let's go return the rental, then we'll keep looking." With a heavy ache growing in his chest, he climbed behind the wheel and started the car.

-SN-

"The boy is in the hospital."

"Did you get to see him?"

"No."

"Why not?!"

"They wouldn't let me."

"You insisted on questioning him?"

"Yes."

"Obviously not hard enough!"

"I'm sorry."

"One more mistake…that's all it's going to take to rid the world of one more cop."

The cop shuddered. "Yes sir."

"One more chance. Sam Winchester must be dealt with before we can deal with the rest of them. You fail me again, you'll be dealt with."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Thanks for reading. :)


	12. One Final Showdown

_**One Final Showdown**_

Sam watched as the spots danced in front of his eyes behind his closed eyelids. He'd been on that couch for the past day, barely moving, barely speaking, barely _living_. He had tucked himself away in an area where it didn't hurt. He had been amazed when he'd actually numbed himself. He couldn't feel a thing, it was great.

Jessica sat on the chair opposite the couch and watched him. He seemed peaceful, almost content. Chewing on her bottom lip nervously she considered what she should do. Sam wasn't speaking to her, and as far as she knew he hadn't eaten anything in the past day and a half at least. Even when her brother had come back with Justin, it hadn't disturbed him.

She'd gotten ridiculed by her brother for bringing a stranger into Justin's house. She had sit and listened to all of thirty seconds before she'd told him he was the one who had gotten rid of the ghost in Deer Lodge. Her brother hadn't said another word.

Justin had been a different story. "I don't want no dude dyin' on my couch."

Jessica sighed and concentrated once more on Sam. "Sam?" she tried again. "You need to eat, or something. Are you awake?" She began to get worried. He had a deep cut on his chest, and multiple stitches. She was willing to be he'd had surgery, and a major one.

She had changed the bandages, and had been keeping an eye out for any drastic changes that might signal an infection. The small white bracelet glared at her, and she knew what she had to do. Right now Sam should be in a hospital, not laying here on this couch.

Right now his physical health was probably more important than his mental.

She pulled out her phone and walked towards the door. She sat again on the porch and dialed Dean's number.

"Jessica?!"

"Hey Dean," she said carefully.

"Jessica, where are you? Don't feed me some crap line about Sam not wanting me to know either," Dean said, agitation evident in every word. The numbers in front of him raced as he refilled the gas tank. He'd been out driving all night, and this was his second time having to refill. Hours ago Jim had asked to go back to the motel, they needed rest, but Dean couldn't. He had no clue where Sam and Jessica were staying, but he'd been determined to be out there looking.

"I think Sam needs to go back to the hospital."

"Jessica, where are you?" he repeated, suddenly on high alert. He fought to contain his rage, but it was boiling awfully close to the top. Sam was being an idiot, and Jessica wasn't helping the situation.

"Three-oh-nine east sixth street, just past the mall."

"I'll be there in five minutes." He hung up the phone and pulled the pump from the tank.

"Twinky?!" Jim asked with a grin as he stepped from the small shopette. He almost dropped the small cake when he caught sight of Dean's face.

Things were getting ugly.

"Sam," Dean said as he looked down at his brother, clenching his fists and resisting the urge to punch the wall. Sam's eyes fluttered open, and he focused on Dean's face.

"Dean," he muttered, turning away. It shamed him knowing he was lying here, in front of Dean, so damn weak. His brother was always so strong, why couldn't he be? He felt the usual guilt and pain begin to surface again, and let out a small moan as he fought to push it back down.

"Come on Sam, you need to go back to the hospital," Dean insisted, grunting as he pulled Sam to a sitting position. He heard the stifled gasp the movement undoubtedly hurt Sam. He cursed his brother's stupidity. When Sam was feeling better, he was going to have to remind his brother he couldn't just escape from the hospital. It had served no real purpose.

Sam saw the disappointment that briefly flickered through Dean's eyes, and he lowered his own to the floor. He felt the guilt and pain begin to surface once more, and he fought to numb it once more. He just couldn't deal with it right now.

Another stifled gasp as Dean pulled him to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, and almost lost his balance. Immediately Dean's arms were around him, supporting him.

They were halfway to the car when a blinding pain tore threw Sam's head.

_**Flash**_  
_"I don't want to hurt anymore."  
"I know honey."  
"Can you make it stop?"  
"Yes. Come with me."_  
**_Flash_**

"Sam!" Dean struggled under the sudden dead weight of his brother. "Son of a bitch! Jim, grab his other side!"

Jessica stood in shock, watching from the porch, witnessing Sam's collapse.

The two were finally able to wrestle Sam into the back seat, and were soon rushing back to the hospital. Grabbing her keys, she followed behind.

-SN-

"Well, we had to replace a few of his internal stitches, and stop some bleeding, but he should be alright," Dr. Stevens said. "We're just going to have to keep an eye on him so he won't pull that stunt again."

"I think I can keep a well enough eye on him Doc," Dean said, lowering his voice. An image of Sam strapped to the bed flashed into his mind and he couldn't quell the spark of anger that ignited low in his gut.

"Of course you can Dean, we all will," Jim said, coming up behind him.

"You may go see him now, though he may be a bit groggy."

"Did you get a hold of my dad?" Dean asked as soon as they were alone.

"Yes. Dean, I'm sorry," Jim said, lowering his eyes.

"He's back to hunting, isn't he?"

"Yes. After he heard that we'd found Sam..."

Dean sighed. He suddenly didn't have the energy to be angry at his father, hell, he'd almost expected it. "We just won't tell Sam yet."

"Dean?" Sam's weak voice came from the bed when they entered his room.

"You gave us quite a scare young man," Jim gently scolded.

"I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it again," Dean warned.

"I won't. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's alright, I should have been keeping a better eye on you."

"You're not my babysitter," Sam said before he could stop himself.

"Well apparently right now you need one. I mean, what the hell possessed you to drive off-in _my_ car-and then take off on foot? If Jessica hadn't found you…you could have died!"

Sam had almost forgotten he'd taken the Impala. What had he been thinking? When he tried to think back, a fog hazed over his mind. What would possess him to take his brother's most prized possession?

"Sammy, it's alright. Just don't do it again, or you owe me a wax job."

Sam nodded, recognizing his brother's subtle way of trying to calm him down and dismissing the problem. "Just get some sleep Sam."

"No prob," Sam muttered, already half asleep. He didn't even hear the sound of Dean pulling up a chair.

_"You've been a lot of trouble to us kid," a voice growled. Sam spun, but couldn't see it's source._

_"You're going to pay," another voice added, clearly female._

_"Who are you?" he demanded, squinting into the darkness. The last thing he had seen was Dean…and the hospital…_

_"Constance was our sister," they replied, voices combining._

_Sam scoffed, and continued to peer into the darkness. He had to get a lock on where the enemy was, but the voices echoed around him, making it impossible to pinpoint their location._

_"You find it so hard to believe she was family?"_

_"You guys aren't exactly known for your loving side," he bit back._

_"I didn't know he had a sense of humor left. Didn't know he had much left of anything. Constance did her job well."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Been missing something, Sammy?"_

_"Don't call me Sammy."_

_"Ah, but there is that left. Anger. You feel it, don't you? Raw, pure anger. It's eating away at you. It will kill you."_

_"Go to hell!"_

_"Why must you humans use that line? Hell really isn't that bad."_

_The intermingled voices of his invisible enemies were starting to give him a headache._

_"So you are big, bad demons, huh? Trying to scare me?"_

_"You can't even feel fear anymore, so we aren't wasting our time. I guess Constance got in one last little jab before you took her out."_

_"What are you talking about? What did she do to me? And you? You're going to be chicken sts and stay in the shadows. You guys are real disappointments to your profession, ya know that?"_

_"Why you little…you have no idea who you're dealing with!!" The voices halted for a moment, and he heard a sigh. "When she banished you to hell in her place, she took a piece of you. Undoubtedly you had a period of numbness, and then the extreme rage you are experiencing now. See, the human psyche has a funny way of compensating. When you couldn't understand what was happening, you subconsciously substituted that numbness with the only defense mechanism you had left: anger. Constance was always quite brilliant when it came to playing with the mind. She was one of us, and now you're going to pay."_

_"Blah blah blah…you're the supposed great "Ancients" no doubt."_

_"Anger really doesn't suit you Sam," the voices returned, calm once more. "You should leave that forte up to your brother."_

_"Don't even talk about my brother," Sam all but screamed. The rage clawing at him was unbearable, he didn't know how much longer he could keep it contained. He couldn't even remember why he was so angry. He had remembered feeling a little mad when he had finally been released from torment, but he didn't know when it had become uncontrollable. He'd even been numb for a while, not feeling a thing. He guess Constance really had done a number on him._

_"Aw, what's the matter little Sammy? Did we say something to make you mad?"_

_"Don't…call…me…Sammy…" The rage was liquid fire in his veins. Any more and he knew he would be consumed by it._

_"Sammy." The name echoed through the darkness, taking on a new voice. The voice belonged to Dean. "I can't help it; you're such a little kid still." A figure appeared finally. The voice…the stance…the figure in front of him was Dean. "I mean, come on, you constantly need my protection. You haven't grown up enough to be promoted to Sam."_

_"Shut up. You're not him."_

_"Oh, but I am. And you know what little Sammy?"_

_Sam stayed silent. He couldn't let these things, whatever they were, get to him._

_"I'm glad Jessica died. She was too good for you and it saved her from you."_

_The liquid fire ignited, consuming Sam in a blaze of heat and pure rage. His vision clouded, and he was staring at Dean's figure through a red filter._

_"Big mistake" was all he could get out._

_Sam closed his eyes, and released the anger consuming him. He heard screeching in the distance, and opened his eyes just to catch sight of two figures explode into a cloudy mist. A third figure, eyes widened, turned and ran. He tried to direct the waning rage at the third figure, but couldn't seem to muster up the energy to stop him._

_Blackness consumed him once more, and he was at peace._

"How ya feelin'?" Dean asked as he watched Sam's eyes open.

"Better," Sam said, actually telling the truth.

"Good, I don't think I can take the food here much more. The cafeteria is downright scary."

Sam let out a loud laugh. The slight pain that lanced across his chest couldn't stop the feeling of joy that passed through him. He could feel again.

"You sure you're feelin' alright?" Dean asked, startled by the laugh.

Throwing another lopsided, dimpled grin at his brother, he replied, "Never better."

"Feel like eating something?" Dean asked, relief immeasurable in his voice.

"Yeah, I am kind of hungry," Sam admitted.

"Alright, I'll be right back. But I warn you, I wasn't kidding about the scary food," his brother replied, turning to leave. They shared a smile, and Sam kept it on his face until Dean was gone.

As soon as he was gone, Sam tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard. The truth was, he wasn't sure if he was alright. The intense anger he had felt was gone, but the cold hollow feeling was returning. And what the hell had happened? Where had he gone to?

He remembered how they had called themselves the Ancients, and how they had threatened revenge. He wondered why they had been so insistent on revenge, when they themselves had banished Constance. He guessed it was because demons would look for any excuse to go off on a killing rampage, and the thought of revenge made it more fun.

Sam sighed and opened his eyes, focusing on the small holes in the ceiling above him. He would continue to try to fight to get better, and he would adopt the mask his brother loved to put on so much, the "I'm fine" mask. He wouldn't let Dean know how shaken and rattled he was on the inside. Dean would just insist on coddling him, even if it was in Dean's on special way, but they couldn't afford it.

They couldn't afford a distracted Dean.

So for now, Sam would smile and laugh, would continue to take the appropriate jabs when his brother called for them, he would continue to be the 'geek' of the team, and he would continue to just take one breath at a time. He would do it, for Dean.

* * *

Ok, I know I uploaded this in an insane amount to time...but I procrastinated a little too long, and I wanted to get this up now haha. So hopefully you all enjoyed. I'm going to try to get Stone Cold up, which is a finished story, but I may not be able to. But I'll try... 

So thanks for reading, and thanks for following along. See you all soon. :)


End file.
